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A  WIDOW'S  WILES 


^  Cometip  in  €ijree  %tt^ 


By  EMI  lie  H.  CALLAWAY 


Copyright,  1908,  by  Dick  &  Fitzgerald 


FITZGERALD   PUBLISHING  CORPORATION 
successor  to 
Dick  &  Fitzgerald 
18  Vesey  St.,  (New.Yorl^ : 


Digitized  by 

the  Internet  Archive 

in  2015 

https  ://arch  ive.org/details/widowswilescomedOOcal  I 


A  WIDOW'S  WILES. 


CHARACTERS 

Mr.  Raymond   A  wealthy  Virginian. 

Tom  Raymond   Mr.  Raymond's  son. 

Tack  Fen  ton  ,      .   .   .    .    /        ,  .  .  , 

WALTER  TRASK  [  ^^"^  ^ 

Ted  Prescott  Tom's  intimate  chum. 

Percy  Huston  A  dude,  given  to    butting  in  " 

Sambo   Mr.  Raymond's  colored  servant. 

Mrs.  Raymond  Mr.  Raymond's  wife. 

Doris  Raymond  Her  daughter. 

Daisy  Burton  Doris's  friend. 

Mrs.  Bronson  A  young  scheming  widow. 

Grace  Huston  Percy  Huston's  sister. 

Mrs.  Pueblo.  A  society  lady. 

Louisiana  Francis  A  young  colored  girl. 

Aunt  Dinah.    .    .    .  Mr.  Raymond's  colored  old  house-servant. 

Locality. — Acts  I,  and  H. — A  country  residence  in  Virginia. 

Act  HL — A  mansion  in  Washington. 

Time  of  PERFORMANCE.~An  hour  and  a  half. 


SYNOPSIS 

ACT  L — House-party  at  the  Raymonds*  country-house  in 
Virginia.  Arrival  of  Mr.  Prescott,  the  celebrity,  in  love  with 
Doris.  Doris's  ideal  hero.  Mrs.  Bronson  plans  to  capture 
Tom  and  his  millions.    The  counter-plot. 

ACT  H.  Drawing-room  in  the  same  house,  a  week  later.  The 
progress  of  the  counter-plot ;  Ted  Prescott's  self-sacrifice. 
Mrs.  Bronson  falls  into  the  trap.  Tom  accuses  Ted,  his  chum, 
of  treachery.  Ted's  dilemma  ;  the  widow's  artful  confession, 
and  her  triumphant  marriage  to  Ted. 

3 


4 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


ACT  III. — Drawing--room  in  the  RAYMONDS'  town  residence, 
three  vears  later.  Dedih  of  Mrs.  Prescott.  Ted's  return,  he  is 
scornfully  repm  .t\.  h;,  :>RiS  who  believes  him  false.  TOM  is  still 
bitter  againsi  i  iiu  .  Jack  exj)lains  toTOM  how  he  has  been  saved 
from  a  life  of  misery  by  TEDS  heroic  sacrifice;  their  conversation 
is  overheard  by  DORiS.  Reconciliation,  and  DORIS  rewards  her 
hero. 


COSTUMES 

ACT  I.— Daisy  Burton,  Jack  Fenton,  and  Walter 
Trask  in  golf  costume.  Ted  Prescott  at  first  in  travelling 
clothes;  later,  in  afternoon  house-suit.  Mr.  Raymond,  at  en- 
trance, in  driving-rig,  afterwards  in  home  dress.  The  others  are 
m  suitable  house-costume. 

ACT  \  l.  —  All  are  in  evening  dress. 

AC  :'  '■']  ^    '  TTQixoN,  Mrs.  Pueblo,  and  Ted  Pres- 

■r '')'!" ■  ;e  for  afternoon  calls.    DORIS,  in  house 

''ece[=  i  .       extravagantly  stylish  get  up. 


INCIDENTAL  PROPERTIES 

Embroidery  for  Mrs.  Raymond.  Broom,  teapot,  water-carafe, 
tray  aiv  l  glasses  for  DiNAH.  Bunch  of  red  roses,  dress-suit  case 
for  Sambo.  Feather-duster  for  Louisiana.  Watch  and  charm, 
bunch  of  violets  for  Grace.  Watch  and  roll  of  manuscript  for 
Jack.  Photograph  of  DORlSon  table  in  Act  IIL  Sprig  of  apple- 
bl.)ssoms  for  DAISY. 


STAGE  DIRECTIONS 

As  viewed  by  a  performer  on  the  stage,  facing  the  audience,  R., 
means  right-hand  ;  L.,  left-hand  ;  C,  centre  of  stage;  C.  D.,  door 
in  centre  of  rear  flat,  UP,  toward  rear  of  stage  ;  down,  toward  the 
footlights. 


A  WIDOW'S  WILES 


ACT  I. 

SCENE.— '77/-??  library  in  the  KA\MOl<iT>S*  country-house  in  Vir^ 
ginia.  Door  iji  centre  of  flat  with  portieres  marking  the  en- 
trance.  Door  at  R.,  of  stage  ;  another  door  at  L.  Windoii) 
L.  of  C.  D.  Chairs  at  R.  a7id  L.  of  C.  D.  Table  at  L.  front, 
behind  it  and  a  little  toward  R.,  is  a  Morris-chair,  Piano 
tip  R.  A  lounge  at  R.  C.  Pictures  hiuig  on  wall  R.  of  Q.  D. 
The  general  arrangement  of  the  room  is  suggestive  of  reftne- 
7nent  and  luxurious  taste, 

DISCOVERED,  Mrs.  Raymond  seated  at  table  quietly  hum* 
ming  to  herself  as  she  works  at  embroidery, 

ENTER  Doris,  through  the  portieres  at  c.  D. 

Doris  {looking  around  as  she  enters^.  Oh,  dearie  me  !  Hasn't 
Father  got  back  yet  ?    (  Walks  arotcnd  tozuard  the  lounge) 

Mrs.  Rayimond  {looking  up  at  Doris).  Is  he  not  anywhere 
around  the  house  ? 

Doris  {in  a  masterf  ul 7nanne7^).  No,  dear.  I  sent  him  to  town. 
You  see  I  wanted  the  table  to  look  ve^y  extra  to-night,  so  he  went 
to  town  to  get  some  of  that  new  kind  of  roses. 

Mrs.  Raymond.  Dear  little  girl !  How  much  pains  you  do 
take.    Tom  is  so  fond  of  his  little  sister. 

Doris.  House-parties  are  a  responsibility.  Do  you  realize, 
Mother  Raymond,  that  you  and  I  haven't  had  a  single  chance  to 
discuss  Tom's  friends  since  they  arrived  ? 

Mrs.  Raymond.    Doris,  how  you  talk  ! 

Doris.  Well,  dear,  you  know,  just  between  ourselves,  we  do  like 
to  talk  about  people — just  to  decide  whether  we  like  them  or  not. 
We  do,  don't  we  ? 

Mrs.  Raymond.  Doris,  it  seems  to  me  you  are  beginning  to 
grow  up. 

Doris.  Oh,  not  a  bit.  Here's  Tom  grown  up  and  through 
college — so  I  have  to  stay  ungrown  up  for  both  of  us. 

Mrs.  Raymond.    If  I  could  only  keep  you  both  my  little  child* 


6 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


ren  always  !  But  you  have  to  grow  up — it's  right  you  should — 
only  Tom  seems — he  seems  to  have  grown  away  from  m^  lately. 

Doris  {kneeling  beside  her  mother).  Don't  say  that,  clear.  It's 
only  that  he's  so  busy  entertaining  his  house-party — and — and — 
that  woman  seems  to  have  somehow  fascinated  him.  (DORis 
turns  her  head  away.) 

Mrs.  Raymond.  Doris,  you  mustn't  speak  of  Tom's  friends 
that  way.  Mrs.  Bronson  just  seems — well,  different  from  the  rest 
of  us.  But,  of  course,  she  must  be  very  nice  or  Tom  wouldn't  like 
her. 

Doris.    Maybe  its  just  her  way  —but-— well,  I  don't  like  her. 

ENTER  Mr.  Raymond,  ^..followed  by  Sambo  with  a  basket  of 

roses. 

Doris  {excitedly).    Oh,  Father  I    Did  you  get  them  ? 

Mr.  Raymond  {holding  her  off,  teasingly).    Such  excitement. 

Dor  I S  {rushes  past  him  and  exainines  the  roses.  Sam  bo  grins). 
Oh,  Father,  they're  lovely  ! 

Mr.  Raymond.  Don't  you  try  to  tell  your  old  dad  it's  all  on 
account  of  brother  Tom  that  we  want  the  table  so  beautiful  to- 
night. [EXIT  Sambo,  r. 

Doris.    Father,  stop ! 

Mr.  Raymond  {teasingly).  Oh,  yes,  ordinary  roses  w^ill  do  for 
the  rest  of  the  house-party,  but  when  a  certain  gentleman  arrives 
this  afternoon  

Doris.  Father,  I  think  you  might  stop.  Just  because  I  do  like 
celebrities  and  heroes  and  grand  men  who  have  done  things — then 
lather  has  to — well,  I  do  like  Mr.  Prescott,  and  I  think  it's  awfully 
nice  of  him  to  come  to  our  house-party,  and  I'm  proud  indeed  to 
have  such  a  grand  man  so  fond  of  my  brother. 

Mrs.  Raymond.  How  could  he  help  being  fond  of  Tom  ? 
Dear  boy. 

(Mr.  Raymond  crosses  and  leans  over  Mrs.  Raymond's  chair.) 

Mr.  Raymond.  Well,  Mother,  we'll  have  to  let  Doris  have  her 
own  way,  as  usual,  won't  we,  and  go  on  with  her  hero-worship. 
We're  getting  behind  the  times,  you  and  I. 

Mrs,  Raymond  {playfully).    Speak  for  yourself.  Father. 

Mr.  Raymond.  That's  what  you  told  me  once — many  years 
ago.  (  To  Doris).  Birdie,  your  mother  was  a  sad  coquette  in 
those  days,  and  many  a  fellow  lost  

Mrs.  Raymond  {interrupting).  Father,  what  nonsense  you 
talk. 

Doris.  She  liked  grand  men  who  did  things,  too,  didn't  she, 
Father  } 

Mr.  Raymond.  Trying  to  jolly  your  old  dad  again  !  Better 
behave  yourself,  young  lady,  here  conne  some  of  our  gue^ta. 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


7 


ENTER  Daisy  Burton,  Jack  Fenton  <^;/<^Walter  Trask,  r. 
They  are  dressed  i7i  golfing  costtime, 

Daisy  Burton.  Such  glorious  golfing !  You  certainly  have 
corking  grounds,  Mr.  Raymond.  For  the  mistress  of  the  manor. 
{She  playf idly  gives  MRS.  RAYMOND  sarne  apple  blossoms  she  s  been 
carrying — then  goes  over  and  sits  on  lounge).  You  ought  to  have 
come,  Doris. 

Mr.  Raymond.  Glad  you  like  my  grounds,  Miss  Daisy.  Mother 
calls  them  my  hobby. 

Jack  Fenton.  We've  been  trying  to  get  in  some  heavy  work 
before  the  celebrity  gets  here.  Expect  after  old  Ted  comes,  the 
ladies  won't  ever  golf  any  more  with  poor  ordinary  mortals.  Isn't 
that  so,  Walter  } 

Walter  Trask.  Never  wanted  to  be  a  celebrity  so  badly  in 
all  my  life. 

Daisy.  We,  on  the  contrary,  expect  celebrity  to  be  so  wrapped 
up  in  Tom,  that  he  won't  even  speak  to  us.  He  and  Tom  are  ter- 
ribly good  friends,  aren't  they,  Mrs.  Raymond.^ 

Mrs.  Raymond.  There  seems  to  be  a  very  warm  friendship  be- 
tween them.  Mr,  Prescott  has  the  elder  brother  attitude  towards 
Tom.    Calms  him  down,  you  know. 

Walter.  Ted  Prescott  is  certainly  young  to  be  in  the  House 
of  Representatives. 

Jack.  But  Ted's  got  brains  enough  to  pull  him  even  through 
politics. 

Daisy.  Oh,  Mrs.  Raymond,  now  is  an  awfully  good  time  to  tell 
us  about  the  story  of/^'//r  career  in  politics. 

Mrs.  Raymond  {getting  tip  hastily).  Dear  children,  tell  you 
stories  with  a  new  cook  in  the  kitchen!  Never,  never.  I  expect 
she  and  Aunt  Dinah  are  quarrelling  this  very  minute.  {Starts  out). 

Jack.  I  say,  Mrs.  Raymond,  tell  her  to  give  us  some  more  of 
those  biscuits  for  dinner. 

Daisy.    Oh  yes,  do! 

Mrs.  Raymond  {smiling),    I'll  see  what  can  be  done  about  it. 

[EXIT,  c.  d. 

Mr,  Raymond  ( following  her).  I  guess  I'll  have  to  take  a 
look  after  those  biscuits  myself.  [EXIT,  C.  D. 

Daisy  {to  Doris).  I  don't  know  w^hich  one  I'm  most  in  love 
with,  your  father  or  your  mother. 

Walter  {teasingly).    Or  your  brother. 

Daisy.  I  don't  get  much  chance  to  show  my  feelings  in  that 
direction. 

(  There  is  an  awkward  sile?tce. ) 

Doris  {hastily).  Oh,  Walter,  I  want  to  show  you  that  picture 
of  Tom.    I  found  it  in  the  music  room,  after  all. 


8 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


Walter.    No  time  like  the  present.    See  you  later,  people. 

[EXIT  Walter  and  Doris,  l. 

(Daisy  contmues  sitting  on  the  loimge.    Jack  strolls  aroimd.) 

Daisy.    Rather  awkward  remark  of  mine,  wasn't  it  ? 

Jack.  Do  you  really  think  it  was  .'^  I  rather  think  your  aver- 
sion to  Mrs.  Bronson  makes  you  think  every  one  else  feels  the 
same  way. 

Daisy.  It's  the  way  she  appropriates  the  men — I  suppose  you 
think  that's  why  I  don't  like  her.  You  men  are  so — well,  you 
think  you're  just  a  little  important,  don't  you  ? 

Jack.  It  depends  on  circumstances — {Looks  out  of  the  win- 
doiv)  Mrs.  Bronson  at  present,  is  walking  up  the  drive  with 
young  Huston.  Tom,  on  the  other  hand,  looking  far  from  import- 
ant, listens  to  one  of  Miss  Huston's  rhapsodies — She  must  be  dis- 
cussing Titian,  judging  from  old  Tom's  face. 

Daisy.  Mrs.  Bronson  plays  her  cards  well.  How  much  money 
do  you  suppose  Tom  will  be  worth  when  old  Mr.  Eliot  dies  } 

Jack.  A  few  millions,  I  imagine.  See  here,  Daisy,  you  women 
seem  to  get  on  to  this  sort  of  thing.  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Bronson 
will  marry  Tom  ? 

Daisy.  Just  as  fast  as  Tom  asks  her.  I  shouldn't  be  sur- 
prised if  they  were  engaged  already.  Low  lights,  violets,  a  languid 
air,  a  clinging  gown — a  boy  like  Tom — and  it's  all  over.  I  rather 
imagine  Mrs.  Bronson  is  right  up  on  that  sort  of  thing. 

Jack.    You  women  do  see  things. 

Daisy.  I  suppose  you  think  I'm  a  horrid  spiteful  thing.  Well, 
you  see.  Jack,  I've  known  you  such  ages  that  it  isn't  of  the  slightest 
importance  what  I  say  to  you. 

Jack.    Deliver  me  from  the  privileges  of  an  old  friend  ! 

Daisy.  I  shall  continue  to  tell  you  just  what  I  think,  neverthe- 
less. You  men  can  all  fall  down  and  worship  Mrs.  Bronson  if  you 
like.    /  can't  endure  her.    (  Walks  across  the  room) 

Jack.  Well,  we'll  have  to  get  Ted's  opinion  about  the  lady.  I 
wish  the  old  fellow  would  put  in  an  appearance. 

Daisy.  Mr.  Prescott,  I  suppose  you  mean — your  celebrated 
friend  ! 

Jack.    My  celebrated  friend. 

Daisy.  A  man  has  just  to  be  a  celebrity  and  the  world  is  his. 
As  to  his  personal  character — he  can  do  just  anything  on  earth  he 
wants  to  and  it's  all  right — he  is  a  celebrity. 

Jack.  Is  there  any  one  of  whom  you  do  approve,  might  one 
ask  } 

Daisy.  Oh,  very  few.  And  do  not  flatter  yourself,  my  dear 
Mr.  Fenton,  that  you  are  among  them.    Good-bye,  Jacky. 

[EXIT,  L. 

Jack.    Daisy's  an  old  dear,  in  spite  of  her  tongue.    Only  hope 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


9 


she*s  not  really  crazy  about  Tom.  There  can*t  be  any  mistake 
about  Mrs.  Bronson.  Daisy  feels  it  too.  She's  got  Tom  just 
where  she  wants  him.  Ted  will  have  to  straighten  things  out — 
I've  done  my  best.  We  can't  let  Tom  get  in  that  woman's 
clutches. 

ENTER  Mrs.  Bronson,  Percy  Huston,  Grace  Huston  and 
Tom  Raymond,  c.  d. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Here's  our  pensive  friend.  How  sad  and 
sombre  you  do  look,  Mr.  Fenton.  Won't  you  tell  us — all  about  it  ? 
We  poor,  ignorant  populace. 

Jack.    I'm  afraid  the  populace  might  not  exactly  care  for  them. 

MrSo  Bronson.    Dear  me.  how  cross  you  are. 

{Sinks  on  couch.    Percy  leafis  over  her,   TOM  keeps  rather  near» 
Grace  and  Jack  talk  together ?i 

Tom.    Ted  hasn't  come  yet  } 

Jack.    No,  your  sister  said  they  expected  him  soon, 
Grace.    Oh,  the  celebrity. 

Mrs.  Bronson  {teanhtg  Jorward),  Fm  so  anxious  to  meet 
your  friend,  Tommie. 

]x(ZY>.  {aside).  Tommie! 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Men  who  have  achieved!  They  are  the 
men  who  know  what  life  is. 

Percy  {in  a  low  voice).  Oh,  if  we  could  have  your  smile  to 
reward  us — we — I  could  do  anything. 

Mrs.  Bronson  {laughing).  What  charming  things  you  do  say, 
Mr.  Huston.  But  you  really  mustn't  say  such  wicked  things  to  a 
staid  widow,  you  know. 

Percy.    Do  you  really  think  me  a  wicked  fellow  ? 

Mrs.  Bronson  {latighing).  Oh,  dear  me, yes,  I'm  really  afraid 
of  you. 

Percy.    Aw,  now,  I  say. 

Tom.    a  moonlight  drive  !    Just  the  thing.    Ted  will  enjoy  it. 

Grace.  How  delightful!  To  have  our  souls  thrilled  by  the 
beauties  of  the  night.  The  moonlight  awakens  all  the  faculties  of 
appreciation  we  have.    Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Mr.  Fenton  } 

Jack.    The  moonlight  never  makes  me  feel  that  way. 

Percy.  Aw,  I  say,  Grace,  I  feel  just  the  same  way  you  do 
about  it. 

Grace.  Oh,  you  men  can  laugh  if  you  like.  You  haven't  any 
artistic  appreciation,  any  of  you.    Have  they,  Mr.  Raymond  } 

Tom.    Not  an  artistic  shred  hanging  to  them  anywhere. 

Grace.  Let's  try  to  educate  them.  What  fun  it  will  be  to- 
night. 

Tom  {crossing  to  Mrs.  Bronson).  Will  you  go  on  the  box 
seat  with  me  to-night } 


10 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


Mrs.  Bronson  {mdiffereiitly).    If  I'm  not  too  tired. 
Percy.    Aw,  say,  Tom,  you're  always  getting  in  ahead  of  a 
fellow. 

Mrs.  Bronson.    Tom  is  awfully  precipitate,  isn't  he  ? 

Grace.  Mr.  Raymond,  when  does  Mr.  Prescott  get  here.  I'm 
sure  he'll  know  all  about  Douget's  new  picture  that's  just  been 
hung  in  Washington. 

Tom.  My  dear  Miss  Huston.  Ted  can't  tell  a  Botticelli  from 
a  Christy  picture.    His  forte  is  men — and  women. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  The  celebrity  again  !  I  always  heard  he 
couldn't  endure  women.    How's  that  } 

Jack.  They  all  fall  down  and  worship,  as  it  were.  And  Ted 
comes  out,  none  the  worse  for  wear. 

Mrs.  Bronson.    Wonderful  man  ! 

Grace.    I've  heard  so  much  about  him.    I'm  wild  to  see  him. 
Tom       the  wz7ido7v).    There  he  is  now — just  driven  up  with 
Father.    You'll  excuse  me  ?  [EXIT  gji/c^ly,  C.  D, 

Jack.    I  must  see  the  old  chap. 

[EXIT  Jack,  c.  d.,  followed  by  Grace. 

(Mrs.  Bronson  with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders  strolls  over 
to  the  piano,  and  plays  lightfy.  Percy  follows,  and  leaiis 
over  the  corner, ) 

Percy.  Aw,  I  say,  Mrs.  Bronson,  your  hair  is  deucedly  lovely 
in  this  light. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Silly  boy.  Run  along  and  leave  me  to  my 
meditations. 

Percy.    You're  not  really  afraid  of  me  ? 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Oh,  yes— I  am.  Please  go — I  want  to  think. 
(Rather  i7npatiently) 

Percy.  Dare  I  hope — about  7ne.  Ah,  see  how  quickly  I  go. 
{Aside)    I'm  getting  to  be  a  devil  of  a  fellow.  [EXIT,  C.  D. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Little  fool !  But  he  serves  his  purpose.  Dear 
Tom  is  certainly  green  with  jealousy.  I  must  bring  him  to  the 
point  to-night. 

{Laughing  and  talking  is  heard  outside. ) 

ENTER  Ted  Prescott  and  Tou,  followed  Jack  and  Sambo 
carrying  suit-case.  Saubo  puts  it  dozvn  and  stands  at  rear 
of  stage, 

Tom.  Well,  I  never  was  so  glad  to  see  any  one  in  all  my  life — 
old  boy.  Ah,  Ted,  I  want  to  present  you  to  Mrs.  Bronson,  my 
friend,  Mr.  Prescott. 

Mrs.  Bronson  {holding  out  her  hand).  I'm  glad  to  know 
you,  Mr.  Prescott.  Needless  to  say,  I've  heard  many  things  about 
you. 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


11 


Ted.  See  here,  Tommie,  what  have  you  been  saying-  about  me  ? 
( To  Mrs.  Bronson)  You  see  Tom  has  always  had  a  grudge 
against  me. 

Tom.    One,  old  man  ?    Make  it  a  dozen. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Yes,  he's  really  said  some  pretty — pretty 
dreadful  things  about  you.  I'll  tell  you  about  them  at  some  more 
convenient  season. 

Ted.    No  time  like  the  present,  you  know — 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Ah,  but  you  see  I  know  you  men  are  yearning 
for  a  good  old  gossip.  I  hope  to  see  you  at  dinner,  Mr.  Prescott, 
and  then  I  shall  tell  you  many  things.  [EXIT,  C.  D. 

Ted.    What  did  you  say  the  lady's  name  was,  Tom  } 

Tom.  Mrs  Bronson.  Her  husband  died  a  few  months  after  her 
marriage. 

Ted.  It  seems  as  if  I'd  seen  her  before.  Are  all  the  rest  of 
the  house-party  as  attractive  ? 

Jack.  See  here,  how  long  since  you've  been  going  in  for  the 
heavy  society  act  ? 

Ted.  My  dear  fellow,  I  assure  you  I'm  a  social  butterfly.  Say, 
Tom,  might  I  suggest  I'd  like  to  tidy  up  a  bit,  before  I  meet  your 
mother  and — sister  ? 

Tom.  Pardon  me.  I  completely  forgot  you'd  travelled  several 
miles.  Here,  Sam,  bring  along  his  duds.  Come  on,  Jack,  we'll 
all  go  up.    Can't  leave  you  out  of  our  sight,  Ted. 

[EXIT  All,  r. 

ENTER  Aunt  Dinah  ^j;;/^/Louisiana,  l.  Aunt  Dinah  begins 
to  ditst — the  child  watches  her. 

Aunt  Dinah.  Bless  me,  chile,  I  taught  dhey'd  never  git 
through  a-talkin — do'  I's  mighty  fond  ob  Mass  Prescott— he's  sure 
'nough  quality.  But,  look  at  dis  here  dirt,  I  declare  dar's  'nough 
dirt  here  to  plant  potatoes  in.  Chile — what  for  are  you  a-standin' 
thar  }  Did  ye  think  I  fetched  ye  to  a  matinee — why  ain't  ye  a 
tidyin'  up  this  yer  place.  Ye  ain't  got  no  sense  in  yer  black  head, 
hab  ye  ? 

(  The  Child  starts  to  work,  hit  stops  as  soon  as  Dinah's  back  is 
turned.) 

Dinah.  Miss  Doris,  she's  sure  'nough  glad  when  Mass  Prescott 
come.  Ye  good-fer-nothin'  niggah,  I  ain't  aguine  tell  ye  agin  to 
stop  lookin'  at  me.  Ain't  ye  never  seen  no  good-lookin'  colored 
ladies  before }  I  ain't  guine  to  talk  no  more.  {She  ejects  the 
child  L.) 

ENTER  Doris  and  Daisy,  c.  d. 

Daisy.  Isn't  Mr.  Huston  killing.^  He  does  think  he's  so 
wicked,  good  little  soul. 


U.  OF  ILL.  LIB. 


12 


A  Widow^s  Wiles. 


Doris.    Dinah,  you  may  go.  [EXIT  Dinah,  l, 

Daisy.  Your  southern  darkies  are  so  refreshing.  Did  I  tell 
you  we  are  thinking  of  coming  to  Hve  in  Virginia? 

Doris.    Honestly  ?    How  perfectly  splendid. 

Daisy.  Would  you  really  Hke  it  ?  Do  you  know  I  think  we 
could  get  to  be  awfully  good  friends  if  we  had  a  chance.  I  feel  as 
if  I'd  known  you  for  years,  in  just  this  Httle  time. 

Doris.  I  do  hope  we  may  have  a  chance.  I've  been  with 
mother  so  much,  I  don't  seem  to  have  any  really  true  girl  friends. 
Of  course  I  know  lots,  but  I  don't  call  any  of  them  friends. 

Daisy.    Dear  me,  you  talk  just  like  a  college  girl. 

Doris.  People  do  laugh  at  my  ideas,  I  know.  But  I  have 
some  very  big  ones  about  friendship,  I  think  friendship  is  a  very 
sacred  thing  and  it  ought  to  mean  a  lot  to  both  parties,  I  think  it 
brings  obligations  and  responsibilities — just  as  love  does. 

Daisy.  You  certainly  are  different  from  all  the  society  girls  I 
know.  To  them  a  friend  is  someone  to  whom  to  tell  all  the  nice 
things  Jack  said,  and  to  discuss  all  the  other  girls'  clothes  with.  A 
really  responsible  relationship,  you  see. 

Doris.  Sometimes,  I  thmk  perhaps  girls  aren't  capable  of  such 
big,  disinterested  friendships  as  men  are.  For  instance,  there's 
Tom  and  Mr.  Prescott.  They'd  do  anything  on  earth  for  each 
other,  and  wouldn't  think  anything  more  about  it  than  if  they  had 
done  it  for  themselves. 

Daisy.    Wait  till  a  woman  comes  between. 

Doris.  A  woman  could  never  come  between.  You  don't  know 
what  Mr.  Prescott  is.  He's  a  celebrity  of  course,  but  he's  a  noble 
man  beside.  He  has  ideals  and  he  lives  up  to  them.  He  never 
thinks  of  himiself.  There's  nothing  little  or  mean  about  him.  He's 
just  a  grand,  big — 

ENTEPs.  Ted,  c.  d..  Daisy  sees  him, 

Daisy  {aside).    Not  dressed  yet.  [EXIT,  L. 

(Doris  turns  hastily ^  sees  Ted  and  is  mtich  confused,) 

Ted  {taki72g  both  of  her  ha?ids).  Well,  Miss  Doris,  it  has  been 
a  long  while,  hasn't  it  }  Might  1  ask  whom  you  were  praising  so 
delightfully 

Doris.    A — a  hero  of  mine. 

Ted.  Lucky  hero.  Won't  you  tell  me  the  requirements.  You 
know,  I've  always  wanted  to  be  a  hero. 

Doris  {hastily).  I — I'm  afraid  there  won't  be  time  before 
dinner.    I  must  dress. 

Ted.    So  many  requirements  ?    I'm  devoured  with  curiosity. 

Doris  {trying  to  change  the  subject).  How  awfully  well  you're 
looking.    It's  two  years  since  I  saw — since  you  were  here,  isn't  it  ? 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


13 


Ted.  Two  long-  years,  Miss  Doris.  Seems  to  me  I  remember 
a  Christmas  party  and  some  mistletoe.  I  thought  I  might  take  a 
grandfather's  privileges,  but  you  evidently  didn't  agree  with  me. 

Doris.  Mr.  Prescott,  what  embarrassing  subjects  you  insist  on 
talking  about.    I  really  must  dress  for  dinner. 

Ted.  Oh,  but  before  you  go — aren't  you  going  to  tell  me  about 
this  hero  of  yours  ? 

Doris.    Would  you  really  like  to  know  about  him? 

Ted,    You've  no  idea  how  much. 

Doris  {slowly  puts  her  hands  dehmd  her.  She  stands  thinking 
for  a  inoniefit),    Well — 

He  must  be  courteous  toward  the  lowly. 
To  the  weak  and  sorrowful,  loving  too. 
He  must  be  courageous,  refined  and  holy. 
By  nature  exalted  and  firm  and  true." 

Oh,  he's  everything  that's — nice. 

Ted.  I  only  hope  you  may  meet  him.  Miss  Doris.  But  ideals, 
I'm  afraid,  are  not  much  given  to  prowling  about  in  the  flesh. 

Doris.    I'm  sure  of  mine. 

Ted.    What — what  physical  attributes  is  he  going  to  have. 

Doris  {glancins;  playfully  at  Ted,  %vho  looks  straight  ahead  of 
him).  Well,  he  must  be  just  about  my  height — not  an  awfully  big" 
man.  (Ted  is  ld7^ge.)  I  imagine  he  11  have  brown  eyes.  (Ted's 
are  blue,)  His  hair  must  be  light  and  curl  up  on  his  forehead. 
(Ted  s  is  dark  and  straight.) 

Ted.    Can  you  recommend  any  tonic  for  hair-curling. 

Doris.  Yes,  indeed.  {Archly)  If  you  eat  bread-crusts—' 
loads  and  loads — you  can  accomplish  wonders. 

Ted.  Well,  then  we  can  fix  the  curls.  But. how  about  height? 
Didn't  Alice  in  W^onderland  have  some  patent  on  shrinkage  ? 

Doris.  But  you  see  your  eyes  are  impossible.  You'll  never  do 
— no,  never. 

Ted  {leaning fo7^7t'ard).  Miss  Doris,  if  I  ever  attain  the  other* 
requirements,  the  inner  ones,  I  mean,  couldn't  you  over  look  the 
eyes  ? 

Doris  {hastily.)  I  7?mst  dress  for  dinner.  Do  make  yourself 
at  home.    Tom  will  be  here  directly.  [EXIT,  C.  D. 

Ted  {gazing  after  her).    Dear  little  girl ! 

ENTER  Jack,  l. 

Jack.    Hello,  Ted !  I've  been  wanting  lo  see  you  alone  evef 

since  you  came  into  the  house. 
Ted.    What's  the  matter? 
Jack.    A  woman's  the  matter. 
Ted  {/tastily),  Doris? 


14 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


Jack.  No,  man  ;  it's  Tom  that's  the  trouble. 

Ted.    How  long  since  Tom  has  been  a  woman  ? 

Jack.    See  here,  Ted,  no  joking,  this  is  serious  business. 

ENTER  Aunt  Dinah,  l.,  with  water.    Puts  it  on  table,  L. 

Ted.  How  do  you  do.  Aunt  Dinah  }  We  don't  have  anything 
to  trouble  us,  do  w^e  ? 

Aunt  Dinah.  Thank  you,  Sah,  much  obliged,  Sah  ;  thank 
you  Sah—  ^  [EXIT,  L. 

Ted.    Have  a  smoke.  Jack.    You'll  feel  easier  in  your  mind. 

Jack.    You  remember  meeting  Mrs.  Bronson  ? 

Ted.    Remarkably  hne-looking,  I  thought  

Jack.  Remarkably  nothing !  Think, — have  you  ever  seen  her 
before  ? 

Ted.  She  has  been  toying  with  your  young  affections,  evi- 
dently. 

Jack.  I'm  older  than  Tom,  remember  that.  Tell  me  if  you 
have  ever  seen  her  before. 

Ted.  Her  face  was  familiar,  but  I've  no  idea  where  I've  seen 
her — New  York  }  London  ?  Paris  }    I  believe  it  was  in  Paris. 

Jack.  Just  so.  In  Paris,  four  years  ago.  Mrs.  Louton  at  that 
time. 

Ted.    You  don't  mean  that  woman  ? 

Jack.  Ah,  you  remember  her  She  was  having  a  gay  time  in 
Paris  }  Young  Bronson  was  hanging  around — a  nice  young  chap 
too.  You  remember  her  manoeuvres  ?  He  had  money,  so  he  was 
her  game.  He  died  a  few  months  after  the  marriage,  luckily  for 
him. 

Ted.    What  is  that  woman  doing  here  ? 

Jack.  Tom  and  his  millions.  He's  young  and  easy,  and  Mrs. 
Bronson  has  him  just  where  she  wants  him.  They'll  be  married 
and  it's  all  up  wath  Tom  and  his  life. 

Ted.    You  are  absolutely  certain  of  this  ? 

Jack.  Sure  as  I  am  sitting  here.  I  knew  her  the  moment  I 
laid  eyes  on  her.  Of  course  she  doesn't  know  we've  ever  seen  or 
heard  of  her  before. 

Ted.    Tom  must  be  told  the  whole  wretched  story  at  once. 

Jack.  Told  !  My  dear  fellow,  Tom's  beyond  that.  I've  told 
him  everything,  talked  till  I  was  black  and  blue  in  the  face.  How 
much  effect  does  it  have  on  Tom  ?  He  said  she  had  already  told 
him  everything — he  doesn't  care  what  her  life  has  been.  She  loves 
him — he  will  make  up  to  her  for  the  way  the  world  has  treated  her 
— and  all  that  sort  of  thing.    The  boy  is  infatuated — clean  gone. 

Ted.    If  it  has  gone  as  far  as  that,  talking  will  do  no  good. 

Jack.  If  Tom  does  marry  her,  the  harm  isn't  going  to  end  there. 
When  Mrs.  Raymond  realizes  that  Mrs.  Bronson  cares  for  nothing 
but  money — and  that  Tom  is  tied  to  a  woman  like  that — for  better, 


1 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


15 


for  worse — I  really  think  it  will  kill  her.    And  as  for  Doris — well, 
you  know  yourself,  how  wrapped  up  they  are  in  Tom. 
Ted.  Yes. 

Jack.  I've  had  time  to  think  about  this  thing  and  I've  thought 
of  a  way  to  stop  it.  It's  the  only  way  I  can  think  of.  A  man 
would  have  to  care  a  lot  for  old  Tom  to  do  it.  There  are  few  men 
could  do  it.   I  \\\\vlV  yotc  could. 

Ted.   What  do  you  mean  } 

Jack.  Do  you  remember  that  thing  of  Browning's  we  had  in 
college  ?   I  remember  the  lines. 

**  And  before  my  friend  be  wholly  hers, 
How  easy  to  prove  to  him,  I  said, 
An  eagle's  the  game  her  pride  prefers, 
Though  she  snaps  at  a  wren  instead." 

You  see  what  my  scheme  is  ? 

Ted.  You  mean  you  want  me  deliberately  to  try  to  win  this 
woman  ? 

Jack.  Just  that.  Remember  you're  a  big  catch.  "  She'll  throw 
Tom  over,  all  right.  That  will  prove  to  Tom  what  she  is  after — 
and  it  will  effectually  prove  it. 

Ted.  What  of  her  ?  Remember  its  an  awkward  thing  to 
play  with  souls." 

Jack.  Soul — in  connection  with  her  !  But  it  certainly  is  a  hard 
thing  to  ask  a  man  to  do— you  must  use  all  your  diplomacy  and  not 
go  too  far.   Just  far  enough  for  her  to  throw  Tom  over. 

Ted.   It's  a  mean  trick  to  play  on  any  woman. 

Jack.    Well,  it's  a  choice  between  her  and  Tom. 

Ted.  Great  Scott,  man,  do  you  realize  what  this  thing  is  you're 
so  calmly  planning  }   But — I — I  can't  let  the  boy  go  that  way  ! 

Jack.  I  think  it's  more  than  that,  Ted.  It  is  you  and  the 
woman  on  one  hand.  It's  Tom  and  Mrs.  Raymond  and  Doris  on 
the  other.   It's  this  whole  family.   You  must  think  of  the  rest. 

Ted  {slowfy).  Yes,  of  the  rest. 

ENTER  Mrs.  Bronson,  at  c.  t>.,  followed  by  Tom. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Oh,  pardon  us.  We  didn't  mean  to  interrupt 
this  solemn  conclave.  [EXIT  laughifigly  with  TOM. 

Ted  I'll  try  it,  Jack. 

(TJiey  clasp  right  hands,) 


CURTAIN. 


16 


A  Widow^s  Wiles. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE. — Drawing-room  in  the  Raymonds*  country-house,  one 
week  later.  Soine  moments  before  the  curtai^i  rises,  music  is 
heard  off  stage  and  voices  singing  a  Negro  sojtg.  When  the 
song  is  nearly  finished,  the  curtain  is  raised,  DISCOVERING 
Ted  and  Mrs.  Bronson  seated  on  a  sofa  R.  C.  Percy  and 
Grace  are  seated  up  ^,  of  Q.  Tom  is  just  in  front  of  them, 
looking  sulky,  DoRis,  Jack,  Daisy  Percy  sitti7ig  in  a 
group  L.  DORi s  is  covertly  watching  MRS.  Bronson.  Wal- 
ter and  Mrs.  Pueblo  stroll  in  at  R.  as  the  song  e?tds.  All 
applaud, 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Isn't  that  charming.  Do  get  them  to  sing 
some  more. 

Percy,  Jack  and  Walter  {in  college  chorus  style).  We  want 
some  more.    We  want  some  more. 

Tom  {walks  R.)  We'll  see  what  can  be  done.  {Signals  off  R. 
Siftging  is  repeated.   All  stroll  arotmd  until  song  is  finished) 

ENTER  Mrs.  Raymond,  c.  d. 

Mrs.  Raymond.  Doris,  some  other  guests  are  arriving.  {To 
All)  It's  so  beautiful  to-night,  we'll  have  some  dancing  out  on 
the  piazza.    I  thought  you  might  enjoy  it  that  way. 

{Dafice  7nusic  is  heard  off  R.  softly  as  if  at  so7ne  dista7ice  and  con- 
tinues at  ifttervals  during  the  entire  act.) 

Percy  {coming  toward  MRS.  BRONSON ).  A  dance  !  Aw,  I 
say,  it's  my  turn,  don't  you  think? 

[Mrs.  Raymond,  Doris  and  Jack  EXIT,  c.  d. 
[Walter,  Grace  a7idVL^^.  Pueblo,  EXIT,  r. 

Ted.  {offeri7ig  Mrs.  Bronson,  his  ar7n.  To  Percy).  Foiled 
again.  Mrs.  Bronson  is  engaged  to  me — to  trip  the  light  fantastic. 
You'll  have  to  hustle  there,  Percy,  my  boy. 

Mrs.  Bronson  {holdi7tg  out  her  hand  to  Percy).  I'll  save  you 
a  dance,  reserved  for  you  exclusively.  Tom  has  the  next  one  or  I'd 
give  you  that. 

[EXIT  Mrs.  Bronson  and  Ted,  r.,  laughing  a7id  talking, 
Daisy.    I'm  so  sorry  your  head  aches,  Tom.    Can't  I  do  any- 
thing ? 

Tom.    Nothing,  thanks.    I'll  just  have  a  smoke. 

Percy  {sta7iding  at  C.  D.).  Aw,  I  say.  Miss  Daisy,  my  head 
aches  awfully  too,  don't  cher  know.  I  need  attention  very  badly. 
(  To  Tom,  tryi7tg  to  be  jovial)  I  say,  Tom,  Mrs.  Bronson's  thrown 
us  both  down.  Cheer  up,  old  man,  there  are  plenty  more  pretty 
girls. 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


17 


(Tom  winces  and  turns,   Daisy  glances  quickly  at  TOM.) 

Daisy  {to  Percy,  hurriedly).  Come,  Mr.  Huston,  I'll  see 
what  can  be  done  for  you. 

[:^/ie glances  back  at  TOM.    EXIT,  C.  D. 
Percy.    Deucedly  clever  girl.  [EXIT,  c.  D. 

(Tom  throws  hifnself  07i  the  lounge,  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets, 
Frow7is,  Then  throws  away  his  cigarette  and  puts  his  head 
on  his  hands) 

ENTER  Doris,  c.  d.    Sees  Tom,  runs  to  him,  kneels  beside  him^ 
and  tries  to  put  her  arm  around  his  neck, 

Doris.  Tommie,  dear,  don't.  She — she  isn't  worth  it.  {She 
waits  a  minute)  Tom,  speak  to  me.  Besides  she — she  may  just 
be  fooling  with — Mr.  Prescott.  (  Trying  to  comfort  him)  If  you 
really  care  so  much — she  may  care  too. 

(Tom  rises  hastily.     Walks  across  the  room,  throwing  back  his 
shoulders,) 

Tom.    I  shall  find  that  out  soon. 

(Doris  continues  sitting  on  the  floor  ^  gazing  at  TOM.) 

Doris.  Even  if  it  is  earnest,  Tom — it — she — do  you  think  she's 
worth  it  all  ? 

Tom  ^fiercely).  Worth  it  ?  You  don't  know  what  you're  talk- 
ing about.  Worth  it  ?  Good  heavens  !  What's  that  got  to  do 
with  it  ?    {In  a  changed  tone)    And  that  it  should  be  Ted  ! 

Doris  {getting  up).  Yes,  he's  turned  out — differently  from  I 
— we  expected. 

{She  walks  across  front  of  stage  L.    TOM  looks  at  her  a  mornent. 
Then  crosses  quickly  and  takes  her  i7i  his  arms.) 

Tom.  It's  pretty  tough,  dear,  all  round.  {Laughing  heard 
outside) 

ENTER  Mrs.  Bronson  ^7«^Ted,  c. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  No,  this  is  really  Tommie's  dance.  Well, 
Tommie,  do  you  think  it's  good  form  to  make  me  come  after  you  ? 
I  do  believe  you  had  forgotten. 

Tom  {gravely),    I  had  not  forgotten. 

(Doris  crosses  quickly  to  R.) 

Ted.    Miss  Doris,  may  I  - 

2 


18 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


Doris  {hastily^,    I  have  to  see  mother,  please  excuse  me. 

[EXIT,  R. 

(Ted  looks  after  her  and  then  EXITS,  R.) 

(Mrs.  Bronson  sinks  on  lounge  L.   TOM  stands  in  front  of  her.) 

Tom  {in  a  low  and  intense  tone).  You  know  this  cannot  go  on 
this  way  another  minute.  You  must  decide  between  us — Ted  and 
me. 

Mrs.  Bronson.    Dear  boy,  don't  look  so  tragic. 

Tom.  Tragic  ?  Yes,  look  at  me.  You  think  Fm  a  boy,  don't 
you  ?  You  think  you  can  toy  and  play  with  me  and  then  throw 
me  away  when  you're  tired.  You  can't  do  it.  Do  you  hear  me  ? 
You  cant  do  it.  You  promised  to  be  my  wife.  (MRS.  BRONSON 
rises,  Tom  looks  at  her  a  moment  and  then  seises  her  hand  pas* 
sionately)    Helen,  you  can't  trample  on  my  love. 

Mrs.  Bronson  [quickly).  Tom,  dear,  I— I  cannot  bear  to 
hurt  you,  but — when  I  promised  to  marry  you,  Tom,  I  thought  it 
was  love.  But  since  then,  a  greater  love  has  come  into  my  life. 
(Tom  drops  her  hands  and  turns  away  abruptly)  I  couldn't 
help  it,  could  I,  dear  }  I  struggled  against  it,  but  it  came  and 
swept  me  off  my  feet.  I  can't  marry  you,  loving  another  one  more. 
You  wouldn't  have  me,  would  you  ?  {Pleadingly)  I'm  trying  to 
be  honest  with  you,  Tom. 

Tom.    Honest  with  me !  Damnation. 

Mrs.  Bronson.    Tom,  you  forget  yourself. 

Tom.    Forget  myself !    Good  Lord,  if  I  could. 

Mrs.  Bronson  (layi?tg  her  hand  on  his  arm).  Tom,  dear,  if 
you  know  how  this  hurts,  how  sorry — sorry  I  am. 

Tom  {turns  quickly  and  takes  her  in  his  arms).  Helen,  this 
can't  be  final,  it  can't  be  all  over — I — I  cannot  let  you  go. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  It  wouldn't  be  right  to  let  you  go  on  waiting. 
Ted— 

Tom  (almost  flings  her  fro?n  hifn).  Curse  him  !  (  Walks 
quickly  to  R.  Turns  and  looks  at  her.  Her  back  is  turned,  he 
starts  toward  her,  then  turns)  [EXIT  qtcickly,  R. 

Mrs.  Bronson  {sinks  on  couch).  Such  scenes  are  rather  ex- 
hausting. Enough  of  boys.  But  I  must  make  sure  of  the  other. 
Suppose  I  should  love  them  both.  {Seniles  complacently)  I  guess 
there's  no  danger.  I  really  hadn't  intended  dropping  Tom  and  his 
millions  quite  so  soon,  but  dear  me,  what  could  I  do  } 

ENTER  Daisy  W  Jack,  c.  d. 

Daisy.  Here's  Mrs.  Bronson.  What  have  you  done  with  your 
swains  ? 

Mrs.  Bronson.  What  do  you  do  with  them,  Miss  Burton  ? 
You  manage  dances  so  skilfully,  I  do  envy  you. 


A  Widow^s  Wiles. 


19 


Daisy.  Just  say,  "  Go  to,  i*  faith,"  and  dance  with  the  one  I 
like  the  best. 

Jack.  And  this  is  my  dance  !  Daisy,  you'd  better  take  it 
back. 

Daisy.  You  know  perfectly  well  you  don't  count,  Jack — not 
the  least  bit. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Miss  Burton,  you're  so  refreshing.  But  sup- 
pose, you  can't  decide  which  one  you  like  the  best — there  have 
been  such  cases,  you  know. 

Daisy.  Just  say,  **  My  mother  told  me,  to  take  this  one,"  and 
always  obey  your  mother.  It's  really  very  simple  when  you  have 
reduced  it  to  a  science. 

ENTER  Ted,  r. 

Ted.  You,  given  to  sciences.  Miss  Daisy  ?  {He  leans  over 
Mrs.  Bronson's  sofa) 

Daisy.  You,  a  member  of  the  Honorable  House  of  Representa- 
tives, given  to  eavesdropping  ?  Would  you  have  thought  it,  Mrs. 
Bronson  ? 

Ted.  Shocking  bad  form,  I  admit.  Being  in  the  House  brings 
frightful  responsibilities.  Speaking  of  responsibilities,  Mrs.  Bron- 
son, Tm  sent  to  conduct  you  to  the  scene  of  the  night-blooming 
cereus. 

Mrs.  Bronson  {rises,  laughing).  Another  frightful  responsi- 
bility. {They  start  to  c)  Since  Miss  Burton's  conversation  witU 
you  doesn't  count,  Mr.  Fenton,  you  had  both  better  come  and  se^ 
the  plant  too.  [EXIT  MRS.  Bronson^;^^  Ted,  C. 

Daisy.  Do  you  know,  Jack,  I'm  beginning  to  like  Mrs.  Bron^ 
son.    Even  if  she  has  treated  Tom  so. 

JAGK.    Why^  might  I  ask  } 

Daisy.  I  like  the  way  she  does  things  better.  And  I  think 
there's  no  fooling  this  time.  I  think  she's  honestly  fathoms  deep 
in  love  with  Ted  Prescott.  She's  grown  so  quiet,  and  have  you 
noticed  the  way  she  looks  at  him,  when  he  isn't  looking  ? 

Jack.    Great  Scott !    Do  you  really  think  that  ? 

Daisy.  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  that }  He  is  evidently 
just  crazy  about  her.  I  didn't  think  she  was  capable  of  a  shred  of 
love,  but  I  begin  to  think  I've  misjudged  her. 

Jack.    Ha,  a  pretty  mess  ! 

Daisy,  Pretty  mess  ?  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  I 
thought  you  were  the  person  who  stood  up  so  terribly  for  Mrs. 
Bronson. 

Jack.    Do  you  really  think  she  is  in  love  with  him  ? 

ENTER  Doris,  c. 

Doris.  Oh,  here  you  are,  Daisy.  {^They  stand  with  arms 
around  each  other) 


20 


A  Widow^s  Wiles. 


Daisy.  Doris,  you  have  g-ot  to  stop  doing  so  much.  Let  us 
entertain  ourselves.    You  look  so  white  and  tired,  dear. 

Doris.    Nonsense,  I'm  all  right.    Have  you  seen  the  plant  ? 

Daisy.    No,  Mrs.  Bronson  was  just  telling  us  to  come  up. 

Doris.    You  had  better  hurry.    Father  has  it  closed  up  at  ten. 

Daisy.    Oh,  I  do  want  to  see  it.  [EXIT,  c.  D. 

Doris  {drops  into  chair).  Jack,  if  you  want  to  be  amused,  you 
had  better  go  with  her.    I'm  too  tired  to  be  agreeable. 

Jack.    Won't  you  let  me  stay  with  you,  Doris  ? 

Doris.    Oh,  yes,  you  may  stay  if  you  want  to. 

Jack.  Doris,  we  used  to  be  such  good  friends.  Somehow, 
lately,  our  friendship — 

Doris.  Friendship  !  There's  no  such  thing  as  friendship. 
(Jack  starts)  No,  of  course,  I  don't  mean  that,  but — people — 
yes,  I  guess  I  do. 

Jack.    What — in  thunder — have  I  done  ? 

Doris.  You  !  You  haven't  done  anything — I — I'm  just 
generalizing. 

Jack.    People  don't  generalize  without  some  provocation  

Doris.  I — I  wonder  if  there  are  any  really  great  men  now- 
a-days. 

Jack.  I  think  there  are  a  few.  Doris,  if  you'd  only  give  an 
ordinary  fellow  a  chance,  some  hope  of  reward  

Doris.  Let's  not  discuss  it,  please.  That  is  not  the  kind  of 
greatness  I  mean — the  kind  that  wants  a  reward.  It  is  the  kind 
that  goes  on  and  on  and  never  says  anything.  But  I'm  learning 
that  there  are  not  many  people  who  come  at  all  near  to  be  ideals. 

Jack.  Doris,  why  are  you  always  after  ideals — I  imagine  they'd 
be  pretty  uncomfortable  to  live  with. 

Doris,  I  didn't  always  think  my  ideals  were  so  rare.  But 
listen,  Jack.    I  want  your  advice — that  is — well,  listen. 

Jack.    I'm  all  attention. 

Doris.    Suppose  you  were  in  love  with  somebody  

Jack  {aside).    That's  straight  goods. 

Doris.  Who  you  thought  was  all  that  was  big  and  noble  and 
true,  and  then  you  found  out  that  he — she — wasn't  what  you'd 
thought  after  all.    Ah — ah,  you  ought  to  stop  lovipg,  oughtn't  you  ? 

Jack.    Why,  I  don't  know  that  you  could  unlove  all  at  once. 

Doris  {walks  to  one  side.    Aside),    Oh,  no,  you  can't. 

ENTER  Ted,  c.  d. 

Jack.    Hello,  Ted. 

(Doris  starts,  then  EXITS  quickly  R.) 

Jack.    Something's  wrong  with  Doris. 
Ted.   Jack,  this  is  a  costly  business. 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


21 


Jack.  YouVe  doing  it  up  brown.  She's  thrown  Tom  over  as 
nicely  as  possible.    You've  got  more  tact,  Ted  

Ted.  Tact  ?  What's  tact  got  to  do  with  business  like  this  ? 
Jack,  I'm  afraid  it's  getting  serious.  I  nearly  chucked  up  the 
whole  thing  last  night — I  found  I  had  gone  a  little  farther  than  I 
meant.    Then  I  happened  to  see  Tom — and  I  kept  on. 

Jack.  Well,  you  can  chuck  it  up  pretty  soon — as  soon  as  Tom's 
safe.  The  joke  of  the  thing  is,  the  lady's  really  falling  in  love 
with  you. 

Ted.  Joke? 

Jack.  Well,  call  it  tragedy  then.  Daisy  Burton  has  noticed  it ; 
with  a  woman's  intuition.  She  says  it's  the  real  thing  now  and  no 
counterfeit.    Ha,  you're  going  to  end  by  reforming  her. 

Ted.  Look  here,  man,  this  may  be  a  joking  matter  for  you,  but 
remember  it's  not  (ov7ne — nor  for  /ter.  I've  noticed  things  myself. 
Of  course,  I  thought  it  was  acting — till  lately, 

(Mtiszc  heard  again  off  R.) 

Jack.  You'd  better  do  the  light  aside  before  you  get  in  it 
yourself. 

Ted.  In  it  myself  .-^  Jack — if — if  I've  honestly  made  that 
woman  care  for  me  ? — Great  Heavens,  what  would  a  man,  with 
any  sense  of  honor,  do  } 

Jack.    Ted,  you  don't  mean  to  marry  her  yourself! 

ENTER  Mr.  Raymond,  Daisy  and  Grace,  c.  d.    The  negroes 
follow  with  the  }7itisicians  playing  a  Reel. 

Mr.  Raymond.  Come  on,  young  gentlemen,  the  ladies  want 
an  old-style  Virginia  reel.  That's  right,  fly  round  now.  Come  on, 
Miss  Grace,  you  and  I'll  lead.  Hurry  up  there,  Ted,  there's  Mrs. 
Bronson. 

ENTER  Mrs.  Raymond,  Mrs.  Bronson  and  Percy. 

(  There  is  much  laughter.     They  dance  a  short  Reel.    Ted  tries 
to  be  light.  Jack  looks  pretty  worried.) 

Mrs.  Raymond.    Father,  we  haven't  danced  so  much  in  years. 

Mr.  Raymond.  And  such  pigeon-wings  as  we  used  to  cut. 
You  young  fellows  aren't  half  so  spry  as  we  used  to  be. 

Percy.  And,  I  say,  Mr.  Raymond,  I'll  challenge  you  to  a  race,  a 
moonlight  race  across  the  lawn. 

Mr.  Raymond.  I'll  take  you  up— and  beat  you—Miss  Grace, 
you  shall  judge. 

Grace  {taking  a  bunch  of  violets  fro7n  her  dress).  For  the 
winner  ! 


22 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


Mr.  Raymond.    Come  on,  all  of  you.    You  all  can  be  the  jury, 

[EXIT  all  wilh  much  laughter, 

(As  Daisy  and  Mrs.  Bronson  are  going,  Ted  being  still  in  the 
room,  Tom  enters  L.) 

Tom  {to  Ted).    I  would  like  to  speak  to  you  a  moment. 

(Mrs.  Bronson  and  Daisy  look  apprehensively  at  both  men.) 

[EXIT  Both,  c.  d. 

Tom.  I  want  to  tell  you  that,  under  the  circumstances,  it  will 
be  impossible  for  me  to  go  to  Washington  with  you,  as  we  had 
planned. 

Ted.    This  is  as  good  a  time  and  place  as  any.   I  may  as  well 
explain  things. 
Tom.  Explain? 

Ted.  Tom,  I  know  how  you  feel.  You're  sore  all  over — 
especially  against  me.  Listen,  Tom,  I  did  this  thing  deliberately 
and  with  a  purpose.  It  seemed  the  only  way  to  save  you  from  her. 
She  wasn't  the  right  sort  for  yoti,  Tom,  and  this  showed  her  up 
pretty  clearly.  It  may  be  tough,  man,  but  you  see  now  it  was  only 
your  money  she  was  after. 

Tom  [fiercely).  Do  you  expect  me  to  believe  that  rot  ?  You're 
mad  with  love  for  her — mad.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you've  no 
intention  of  marrying  her  (Ted  starts)  Ah,  you  acknowledge  it  ! 
Cut  out  your  damned  excuses. 

Ted.  See  here,  you're  supposed  to  be  a  man,  with  a  man's 
judgment  and  common  sense. 

Tom.  It's  a  wonder  I'm  anything.  The  woman  I  loved  more 
than  anything  on  this  earth — do  you  hear — and  you — you — who 
I'd  thought  was  the  best  friend  I  had — to  come  between — deliber- 
ately to  cut  me  out  in  my  own  house. 

Ted.    Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  doubt  my  word  ? 

Tom.  Doubt  ?  Every  word  you  say  is  a  lie,  you're  trying  to 
crawl.  To  save  me.  {Laughs  hysterically)  Good-bye,  my 
friend.    {Starts  toward L.) 

Ted.  If  I  were  a  boy,  I  might  indulge  in  a  little  passion  too. 
If  you  imagine  for  an  instant  I'm  doing  this  thing  for  the  love  of  it 
— See  here,  we're  not  a  couple  of  schoolboys,  we  are  supposed  to 
be  friends.    Where's  your  faith,  trust  ? 

Tom.  Faith  !  Trust !  Rubbish  !  Give  me  back  the  woman,  and 
you  can  take  your  good  for  nothing  friendship  and  go.     [EXIT  L. 

Ted.  The  boy  doesn't  mean  it.  He's  blind  with  passion. 
(  Walks  up  and  down)  It  can't  be  all  for  nothing.  The  boy 
must  see  it.  Good  Lord,  does  that  woman  really — care  ?  {Sinks 
on  couch.)  I — I  can't  marry  her.  Honor,  honor.  {Fiercely)  What 
is  honor  }  Doris  ?  Good  Lord,  may  it  be  only  acting.  {He  sits 
with  his  head  ifi  his  hands) 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


23 


(Mrs.  Bron son  a/f/f ears  at  C.  D.    Smiles  couiprehensively.  Then 
she  changes  to  a  syniipathetic  expression.    Advances  softly^ 

Mrs.  Bronson  {softly).    Ted,  what  is  the  matter? 

Ted  (starts).    Don't  feel  just  right.    That's  all. 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  ?  Or  would  you 
rather  just  have  me  go  away  }    I'm  so  sorry. 

Ted.    Don't  trouble  about  me.    I'm  not  worth  it. 

Mrs.  Bronson  {slowly).  Worth  it.^  Do  you  know,  do  you 
know,  what  that  means  to  nie? 

Ted  {earliest ly).    Tell  me. 

Mrs.  Bronson  {looking  straight  ahead  of  her,  and  evidently 
speaking  with  effort).  It  means  you  are  the  first  honorable  man 
I  have  ever  known — the  first  man  who  has  made  me  ashamed  of 
what  I  am.  My  life  has  not  been  what  it  should  have  been — the 
aim  in  it  has  not  been  very  high — I-~I  never  had  a  mother  to  guide 
me — to  advise  me — but  I  have  been  most  to  blame.  Then — 1  met 
Tom,  I  liked  him — but  {quickly)  I  was  going  to  marry  him  for  his 
money.  This  is  the  whole  story,  and  then— yon  came  and  I  knew 
the  difference.  I  struggled  against  it — but  you  won  me  in  spite 
of  myself.  You  will  hate  and  despise  me — but,  oh,  Ted,  after  what 
you  said  last  night — I  had  to  tell  you  everything. 

Ted  (sternly).    Are  you  telling  me  the  truth  ? 

Mrs.  Bronson.  Yes,  the  truth.  If  it's  going  to  turn  you  from 
me — I — I  am  still  glad  I  told  you — but — it  would  kill  me.  Ted, 
speak  to  me.    You,  do  not  doubt  my  word. 

Ted  (slowly).  No,  Helen,  I  believe  you.  This  means  that  we 
— that  you — Helen,  you  will  marry  me,  you  will  be  my  wife? 
(Mrs.  Bronson  turns  away.  For  a  jnomeftt,  a  look  of  triumph 
goes  over  her  face.     Theii  she  turns  and  speaks  very  softly.) 

Mrs.  Bronson.    Whenever  you  wish,  Ted. 

ENTER  Doris,  c.  d. 

Doris.    Oh,  pardon  me,  I  didn't  know  anyone  was  here. 
Mrs.  Bronson.    Tell  her,  Ted.    I  can't.  [EXIT,  L. 

Doris  (stiffly).  I  hope  you  will  pardon  my  intrusion,  Mr.  Pres- 
cott. 

Ted.  Miss  Doris,  I  beg  of  you — Miss  Doris,  (slowly)  Mrs. 
Bronson  has  consented  to  be  my  wife. 

(Doris  starts  slightly,  then  tttrns,  and  holds  out  her  ha7td.) 

Doris  {with  effort),  I — I'm  sure  I  congratulate  you  and— 
wish  you  all  happiness. 

(Ted  bows  his  head  slowly  over  her  hand^and  then  quickly 
kisses  it,^ 


24  A  Widow's  Wiles. 

Ted  {broke7ily).    Good-bye— Doris.  [EXIT,  C.  D.,  hastily. 

(Doris  stands  irresolute  a  moment  a7td  then  flings  herself  on  the 
couch,  her  head  on  her  arm,  weeping  violently. 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE. —  Three  years  later.  Drawing-room  in  the  Raymonds* 
town  residence,  elegantly  furnished,  Entraftces  at  R.,  L.,  and 
at  centre  of  flat.  Window  L.  of  C.  D.  Sofa  down  L.  C. 
Tea-table  at  R.  C.  DISCOVERED,  Grace,  seated  near  rear 
of  tea-table;  MRS.  PUEBLO  on  sofa,  making  an  afternoon 
call ;  Doris  i7i  front  of  table  pouring  tea. 

Grace  {laughing^.  Dear  Doris,  you  say  things  just  the  same 
way  you  used  to. 

Doris.  Don't  tell  me  I  say  the  same  things.  Do  give  me 
credit  for  a  Httle  improvement.  I'm  three  years  older  now,  you 
know — and  very  worldly-wise  

Grace.  It  doesn't  seem  three  years  since  that  memorable 
house-party,  does  it  ? 

Mrs.  Pueblo.  I  can't  realize  that  it  was  so  long  ago.  You 
haven't  been  South  since,  have  you.'* 

Grace.  No,  I've  been  prancing  about  over  the  water.  Dear 
me,  how  time  flies  

Mrs.  Pueblo.  Which  reminds  me  I've  only  seven  more 
engagements  this  afternoon.  {Rises.) 

Doris.  Oh,  I'm  sorry  you  must  go.  It's  been  so  long  since 
I've  really  seen  you. 

Mrs.  Pueblo.  YouVe  such  a  recluse,  Doris.  Not  one  of  my 
receptions  have  you  been  to,  and  such  charming  men  as  I  have  im- 
ported for  the  occasions.  You  7nust  come  to  my  next.  Good-bye, 
Miss  Huston,  I'm  so  glad  to  have  seen  you  again.  Good-bye, 
Doris.  [EXIT,  C.  D. 

Grace.  Now  we  can  have  a  little  gossip — Thank  you,  I  will 
have  some  more  tea.  Oh,  I'd  forgotten.  {U^tfastens  charm 
from  watch)    I  picked  this  up  for  you  in  Paris. 

Doris.  How  dear  of  you  to  think  of  me  in  the  delights  of 
Paris. 

Grace.    Paris  was  a  whirl.    And  my  poor  art— I  lost  it  com- 
pletely— it  cured  me.    Society  now  for  me,  thanks. 
Doris.    How  long  were  you  in  Paris  ? 


A  Widow's  Wileo. 


25 


Grace.  Nine  months,  my  dear,  it  seemed  like  a  dav — we 
stayed  mostly  at  the  Continental.  Oh,  I  had  almost  forg-otien  to 
tell  you.    Who  do  you  suppose  was  staying  there  ? 

(Doris  starts  slight fy.) 

Grace  {rattling  o?i).  Mr.  Prescott  and  that  scandalous  wife  of 
his — My  dear,  the  talk  about  her  !  She  certainly  led  him  a  life.  I 
never  could  understand  how  he  came  to  marry  her,  could  you  } 

ENTER  Dinah,  C.  d.,  takes  teapot  and  EXIT. 

Doris  (confused).  It — it  was — rather  odd.  {Trying  to  change 
the  subject)    Did  you  meet  the  Jamesons  over  there  } 

Grace.  Just  my  luck — not  to.  But  let  me  tell  you  about  Mr. 
Prescott.  I  never  have  seen  a  man  so  changed.  He  used. to  be 
so  jolly  and  everything,  and  he's  grown  so  quiet  and  tragic-look- 
ing.   I  should  think  he  would  with  that  dreadful  woman. 

(Doris  fusses  with    the   tea-things   then  glances  out  of  the 
wi?idow.) 

Doris.    Here  comes  Daisy.    How  fortunate. 
Grace.    She  lives  in  town  now,  doesn't  she  ?    To  think  of  her 
and  Tom,  engaged  ! 

Doris.    We  are  all  very  much  pleased — — 

ENTER  Daisy,  c.  d. 

Doris.  Here's  a  friend  of  yours,  Daisy.  {Shakes  hands  with 
her) 

Daisy.    Why,  Grace  Huston,  how  do  you  do  ? 

Grace.    So  glad  to  see  you.    How  are  you  ? 

Daisy.  Same  old  girl.  {Leans  over  the  back  of  DORIS'S  chair 
and  kisses  her)   How  is  your  brother  ?    Is  he  down  here  too  } 

Grace.  Yes,  he  expects  to  come  over  this  afternoon.  I 
couldn't  wait  for  him,  but  just  ran  over  for  a  moment  myself. 

ENTER  Dinah  with  fresh  tea,  and  EXIT  C.  D. 

Daisy.    It  certainly  is  good  to  see  old  friends. 

Doris.    Have  some  tea  now.    {Takes  some  to  Daisy) 

Daisy.  Speaking  of  friends — have  you  heard  the  latest  defini- 
tion ?  A  friend  is  someone  who  knows  all  about  you  and  still  likes 
you.    How  does  that  strike  you  } 

Grace.  According  to  that,  there  are  not  many  friends  in  the 
world. 

Doris.    Which  is  very  true.    A  rather  good  definition,  I  think. 


26 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


Daisy.  Now,  Doris,  don't  get  cynical.  When  Doris  gets 
started  that  way — I  have  to  take  her  in  hand,  {playfully)  gently 
but  firmly. 

Grace.  Doris,  cynical  !  Dear  me,  you  must  have  changed. 
But  I  must  trot.  Hundreds  of  things  to  do  as  usual.  {Rises  and 
billions  coal) 

Doris.    Don't  you  ever  stop  rushing  ? 

Grace.    No,  indeed.    I  haven't  a  doubt  but  I  shall  die  of  heart 
failure — Wasn't  it  sudden  with  Mr.  Prescott's  wife  ? 
Daisy.    Mr.  Prescott's  wife  ? 

Grace.  Why,  yes,  hadn't  you  heard  about  it  1  She  died  nearly 
a  year  ago — heart  failure.  It  near  scared  me  to  death.  But  dear 
me,  what  can  one  do  }  I  shall  rush  to  the  end  of  time.  Good- 
bye, Daisy.    Good-bve,  Doris.    So  glad  to  have  seen  you,  dear. 

[EXIT,  c.  D. 

Daisy.  So  Mrs.  Bronson,  I  mean,  Mrs.  Prescott — is  dead ! 
Ha,  I  wonder  how  Ted  Prescott  feels  about  it.  How  infatuated 
Tom  was  !  But  I've  nevxr  been  really  jealous  about  it,  because — 
well,  that  wasn't  love,  was  it  ? 

Doris  {busy  wilh  the  lea-things).    No,  dear,  don't  worry. 

Daisy.  Do  you  remember  how  you  used  to  rave  about  Ted 
Prescott's  nobility  and  all  that  ?  Well,  I  don't  suppose  I  ought  to 
say  anything  mean  since  he  certainly  prevented  Mrs.  Bronson's 
getting  Tom — lucky  for  Tom. 

Doris.  Give  me  your  hat,  Daisy — Why  haven't  you  taken  it 
off? 

Daisy  {taking  out  her  hatpins).  Sometimes  mean  things  like 
that,  turn  out  best  for  the  people  they're  intended  to  hurt.  Don't 
you  think  so  } 

Doris  {straightenijtg  some  books  on  a  table).  Sometimes. 

Daisy.  I  wonder  if  he  and  Tom  will  ever  make  it  up.  If  a 
person  ever  did  a  thing  like  that  to  me,  I'd  be  so  angry,  I — I'd  hiss 
and  run  up  the  wall. 

Doris  {trying  to  be  light).    Oh,  Daisy,  nothing  so  dreadful ! 

Daisy.    Yes,  just  that. 

ENTER  Tom,  c.  d.,  singing, 

Tom.  Hello,  there  !  Why  wasn't  I  informed  that  you  were 
here  ?  Doris  will  excuse  us.  {He  turns  DAISY  around  and  kisses 
her) 

Daisy.    Silly  boy ! 

Doris.  Don't  mind  me,  dear  children.  I'm  blind  and  deaf. 
Besides  I'm  going  up-stairs. 

Daisy.    If  you  go  one  step,  I'll  

Doris  {teasingly).    **  Kiss  and  run  up  the  wall."    [EXIT,  C.  D. 
Tom  {suddenly).     Daisy,   why    doesn't    Doris    get  engaged. 
There'ie  plenty  of  suitors  hanging  around.    There's  old  Jack 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


27 


Fenton  been  adoring"  these  three  years.  Now,  if  she  only  knew 
how  nice  it  was.    {Puts  his  arin  aromid  her) 

Daisy.  Tom,  I  should  think  you  were  a  Freshman  in  college, 
instead  of  being  supposed  to  have  some  sense. 

Tom.  Now,  Daisy,  when  a  fellow's  a  hard-working  laborer,  he 
-might  be  allowed  a  little  foolishness. 

I) AlSY  {piqued).    Foolishness!    Oh,  very  well,  Mr.  Raymond. 

Tom.    What  in  thunder  can  I  say  ?    If  I  say  

Daisy  {teasingly  puis  her  hand  over  his  niouth).  There — dear, 
you  may  say  anything. 

Tom.  Oh,  very  well  then.  There's  a  certain  girl  whose  eyes 
the  loveliest  

Daisy.  In  reason.  Mr.  Raymond.  Do  be  sensible,  Tom.  Do 
you  know  what  I  heard  this  afternoon  ?  (  Watches  hiiu)  Mrs. 
Bronson,  Ted  Prescott's  wife,  died  nearly  a  year  ago, 

Tom.  Yes,  I  heard  it  this  afternoon.  One  bad  woman  out  of 
the  world. 

Daisy.    I— I  thought  you  used  to  

Tom.  Yes,  I  did  use  to — pretty  hard.  I  was  easy  all  right. 
Why  can't  such  women  leave  boys  alone. 

Daisy.    Well,  she  got  Ted  Prescott  and  he  was  no  boy. 

Tom.  Let's  not  talk  about  Ted.  He  got  all  he  deserved — and 
more.  But  you  know,  Daisy,  since  I've  grown  older  and  heard 
more  about  Mrs.  Bronson,  sometimes  I've  had  an  awful  feeling 
that  maybe  I  misjudged  him  after  all.    Good  Lord,  if  I  did  ! 

Daisy.  I  don't  exactly  see  how  you  could  misjudge  him.  Oh, 
here's  Papa  Raymond,  that  is  to  be. 

ENTER  Mr.  Raymond,  c.  d. 

Mr.  Raymond.    Well,  Daisy,  what  are  you  doing  with  my  boy  ? 

Daisy.    He's  perfectly  safe  with  me  I  guarantee. 

Mr.  Raymond.  Well,  he  looks  precious  like  going  to  a  nice 
little  funeral.  {Goes  to  R.  and  calls)  Doris,  come  and  give  me 
tea.    {To  Daisy)  Can't  get  along  without  my  tea. 

ENTER  Doris,  r. 

Doris.    Sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting.  Papa.    {Pours  hiin  tea) 

Mr.  Raymond.  Just  a  little  cup — that's  it.  I'm  in  a  big  rush- 
Take  my  advice,  Daisy,  always  give  men  tea  in  the  afternoon  to 
keep  'em  sweet  tempered. 

Daisy.  And  give  them  muffins  for  breakfast,  and  coffee  in  the 
middle  of  the  morning,  and  a  lovely  luncheon  and  a  big  dinner  and 
after-dinner  coffee — Oh.  Yes.  I  know  all  about  managing  sweet- 
tempered  masculines. 

Mr.  Raymond.    I'm  afraid  to  have  you  come  in  the  family. 


28  A  Widow's  Wiles. 

Now,  Doris  {affectionately  piiUi7ig  her  ear)  never  says  such  things. 
Daisy.    No,  hers  are  much,  much  worse. 

{V>0'R.\'$>lattghs  quietly.) 

Mr.  Raymond.  By  the  way,  Tom,  I  met  an  old  friend  of  yours 
down  town.    Ted  Prescott. 

1:0^1  {startled),    Ted  Prescott ! 

(Doris  starts,  the7i  bejids  over  the  tea-table.) 

Mr.  Raymond.  Why,  yes.  {Drinkmg  tea,  he  doestit  fiotice 
the  effect  on  Tom)  Wife's  dead  and  he  comes  back.  He's  going 
into  pohtics  again  full  force.  Of  course  1  asked  him  to  stay  with 
us  while  he's  in  town.  Another  little  cup,  please.  (DORIS  can 
scarcely  take  the  cup) 

Tom.    You  asked  him  to  stay  here  ! 

Mr.  Raymond.  W^hy,  of  course.  However,  he  said  he  couldn't 
— only  in  town  for  a  short  time.  He'll  be  up  to  pay  his  respects 
this  afternoon.    Be  sure  to  be  in,  some  of  you. 

ENTER  Mrs.  Raymond,  c.  d. 

Mrs.  Raymond.    Father,  the  carriage  is  waiting  for  you. 
Mr.  Raymond.    No  rest  for  the  righteous.    Good-bye,  all  of 
you.    Don't  forget  to  be  at  home — Doris — or  some  of  you. 

[EXIT,  C.  D. 

(Mrs.  Raymond  talks  to  Doris  aside.    Tom  and  Daisy  are  at 
front,  R.) 

Daisy  {softly).  Are  you  quite  sure  you  are  not  the  tiniest  bit 
sorry  about  Mrs.  Bronson  } 

(Tom  looks  back  hastily  and  sees  the  others  are  occupied.  He 
kisses  her),  [EXIT  BOTH,  R. 

Mrs.  Raymond  {looking  ajixiously  at  Doris).  Doris  dear,  I'm 
afraid  my  little  girl  isn't  happy. 

Doris  {rises  and  walks  across  the  room).  It's  just  nerves,  I 
guess.    {Trying  to  be  light)    I'm  getting  so  old,  dear. 

Mrs.  Raymond.  Sometimes  I  almost  think  you  haven't  gotten 
over  your  childish  hero-worship.  Doris,  you  must  not  expect  men 
to  come  up  to  ideals — if  you  wait  for  that,  dear,  I'm  afraid  you'll 
never  be  happy. 

Doris.  Don't  you  think  I  can  ever  be  happy  without  marrying 
somebody  ? 

Mrs.  Raymond.  It's  the  perfect  happiness — it  is  the  crow^n  of 
womanhood,  and  I  don't  want  my  little  girl  to  miss  it.  Are  you 
trying  to  decide  about  Jack  Fenton,  dear  } 


A  Widow's  Wiles.  29 

Doris  {putting  her  arms  aroimd  her).  Mother  dear,  what  a 
match-maker  you  are. 

ENTER  Sambo  c.  d.  ;  annotmces 
Mass  Fenton,  Miss  Doris. 

Mrs.  Raymond  {hastily).    There,  clear,  smooth  your  hair — • 

Ask  him  to  stay  for  dinner — if  you  want  to.  [EXIT,  R. 

ENTER  Jack,  C.  D.  With  a  roll  of  maittiscript  under  his  left 
arm.  He  has  a  bunch  of  red  roses  in  his  rig  Jit  hand,  %vJiich  he 
gives  to  Doris. 

Jack.    To  actually  find  you  alone.    Here's  luck. 

Doris.  Aren't  they  lovely  ?  Thank  you  so  much,  Jack.  {Ar* 
ranges  them  i7i  a  vase,  Jack  watches  her) 

Jack.  Doris,  pay  attention  to  me — I'll  only  bother  you  a  few 
minutes.    Then  I'm  going-  up  to  work  in  Tom's  library. 

Doris.  Jack,  I'm  sure  I  always  pay  you  the  most  respectful  at- 
tention. {Site  still  arranges  the  flowers.  Jack  gets  up,  walks 
over  and  sta^ids  beside  her) 

Jack.  Red  roses  !  Sign  of  true  love.  I — want  you  to  wear  one 
to-night — if  there's  any  hope  for  me? 

Doris.    Jack,  please  don't. 

Jack  {excitedly).    Don't  answer  me  tiow.    I'll  wait — please  just 

think  about  it.    You  know  how  I  

Doris  {hastily).    Jack,  don't. 

Jack.  I  know, you'll  say,  no  ;  now — don't — just — here.  (Takes 
a  rose  from  the  vase  and  gives  it  to  DORIS,  who  takes  it  7nechaniC' 
ally)  Just  wear  it  to-night — Doris — if  there's  any  hope  for  me. 
{Chokes.    Picks  up  ma7iuscripts  lie  brought  in  with  him) 

[EXIT,  c.  D. 

(Doris  mechanically  plays  with  the  rose.) 

Doris.  Dear  old  Jack.  {Siniles  sadly.  A  pause)  Ted  Pres- 
cott's  in  town — coming  here  !  Why  can't  I  forget  him  ?  {Her 
face  hardens)  [EXIT,  R. 

ENTER  Percy  Huston,  C.  d.,  gazes  aroimd  with  his  eyeglass, 

Percy.  Aw,  I  say,  where  is  everybody  ?  Here  I  blow  in — blow 
around — where  the  deuce  are  they  }    {Loo/cs  around) 

ENTER  Daisy,  r. 

Daisy.   Why,  how  do  you  do  ? 

Percy  (^aside).    Well,  I'll  be  blowed.   Somebody  at  last.  {To 


80 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


Daisy.)    Charmed,  I'm  sure.    Are  you  living  here  now,  Miss 
Daisy. 
Daisy.   Not  yet. 

Percy.  But  expect  to.  Congratulations.  I  heard  about  it,  don't 
cher  know.  Do  you  tJiink  Tom  would  really  dare  trust  you  alone 
with  me  ? 

Daisy  {a7mised).    I'm  afraid  he  might  be  worried. 
Percy.   I  have  rather  a  bad  name  among  the  ladies. 

ENTER  Jack,  \..,goes  to  Daisy  without  seemg  Percy. 

Jack.  Say,  Daisy,  I  want  your  help.  Can  I  have  a  private  con- 
versation for  about — {Sees  PERCY) 

Percy.   Charmed,  old  man.    {Shakes  hands  with  hnn) 
Jack.   Why,  hello  there  !   {Not  especially  pleased) 
Percy.   Well,  this  is  delightful.    For  a  time  I  thought  I  shouldn't 
find  anyone.    I  was  weally  getting  quite  wowvvied. 
Jack.   Have  you  seen  the  family? 

Percy.  No,  don't  cher  know.  But  then,  I  can  talk  to  you  just 
as  well. 

{]ACVi glances  despairingly  at  Daisy.) 

Daisy  {gla7icing  teasingly  at  Jack).  Do  tell  us  all  about  your 
adventures  all  these  years.  You  must  have  a  string  of  hearts  in  your 
possession. 

Percy.  Aw,  now,  Miss  Daisy,  I  believe  you're  jollyin*  me. 
Well,  how  is  all  this  nice  little  bunch  ?   Deah  old  Tom,  how  is  he.^ 

Jack.  Pretty  fine — if  you  hurry,  you  can  catch  him  at  his  office 
• — he's  generally  there  about  this  time. 

Percy.  Deah  me,  no,  I  can't  hurry,  don't  cher  knov/.  See  him 
some  other  time.  Well,  who  else  is  there.?  Aw — yes — Prescott — 
the  grand  one — how's  he  ? 

T)AISY.   We  haven't  seen  him  in  a  long  time. 

Percy.  Do  you  know,  I  used  to  think  sometimes  that  he  and 
Tom  had  a  wow  about  that  Mrs.  Bronson,  I  used  to  weally  think 
they  did. 

Jack.  Say,  Percy,  my  boy,  I'd  be  careful  about  how  much 
thinking  I  did  if  I  were  you. 

Percy.   Aw,  now,  I  say — but  as  I  was  sayin'  • 

Jack.  There,  isn't  that  Doris  out  in  the  garden  now  ?  You'd 
better  hurry  before  she  goes  out. 

Daisy  (looking  out  of  the  window).  Why,  Jack ! 

(Jack  quickly  motio7ts  her  to  be  silent.) 

Percy.   Why,  I  don't  care  about  

Jack.   There,  she's  starting,  hurry  up  or  she'll  be  gone. 
Percy.  Weally,  won't  you  people  mind  if  I  go  ? 


A  Widow's  Wiles.  31 

Jack.   Not  a  bit.   Hurry  before  she  goes. 

Percy.  I  fly  I  [EXIT,  r. 

(Daisy  drops  in  a  chair  /attg/iing.) 

Jack.  Forgive  me  the  fib.  But  Doris  7nay  be  in  the  garden 
somewhere.  Come  in  the  hbrary,  Daisy,  there's  a  good  girl.  I  want 
your  advice. 

Daisy.  I  should  think  you  had  better  get  out  of  Percy's  way 
before  he  comes  back.  [EXIT  .Both,  l.,  laughing, 

ENTER  Sambo,  l.,  speaks  off. 

Sambo.  Come  right  in,  Mass  Prescott.  I'll  tell  Miss  Doris,  di- 
rectly, sah. 

ENTER  Ted,  l.,  looks  older. 

[EXIT  Sambo,  l. 

Ted  {picks  up  a  picture  of  Doris  on  the  table,  opens  the  back  of 
his  watch  and  compares  them,  his  face  iighti7ig  up).  She's  waited 
for  me.   She  has  understood. 

ENTER  Doris,  C.  d.   Pauses  a  moment  as  though  to  pull  herself 
together.    Then  advances. 

Doris.   This  is  indeed  unexpected,  Mr.  Prescott. 

(Ted  takes  her  hand  and  keeps  it,  looking  hard  at  her), 

Ted.   Doris — I've  come  back  to  you — at  last. 
Doris  {pulls  her  hand  away).   Mr.  Prescott,  I  don't  understand 
you. 

Ted.  Don't  understand  ?  Doris,  you  understand.  You  know 
that  I — love  you,  Doris — have  always  loved  you. 

Doris.  Mr.  Prescott,  ho\Y  dare  you  speak  to  me  like  that  ?  I  am 
not  a  child,  now — I  am  a  woman — and  my  belief  in  heroes  is — dead. 

Ted  {staring  at  her).  Doris.  {Simply)  I  thought  you  loved 
me. 

Doris  {intensely).  You  expect  me  to  care  for  a  man  who  did 
what  you  did  to  my  brother — a  man  who  broke  all  the  ties  of  friend- 
ship as  you  did  } 

Ted  {slowly).   And  you  too  did  not  understand  } 

Doris.  Understand  }  Yes,  I  understand  that  you  were  not  the 
man  I  thought  you.  You  broke  to  pieces  all  my  girlish  ideals  and 
enthusiasm — and — love — and  as  for  the  woman  

Ted  {slowly).   You  are  speaking  of  the  woman  that  was  my  wife. 

Doris.  I — beg  your  pardon, 


32 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


{Goes  slowly  fo  L.  evident ly  strugglmg  to  appear  composed.  Shi 
still  holds  the  rose  in  her  hand.  She  pauses  a  niomeiit  at  the 
door  and  then  goes  out  without  looking  back.) 

Ted  {stands  perfectly  still).  And  she,  too,  never  understood! 
{Sinks  on  a  chair y  his  head  in  his  hands) 

ENTER  Percy       Jack,  c.  d. 

Percy.    Aw,  I  say,  why,  it's  Ted  Prescott,  our  old  rival  celebrity. 

Jack.    Ted  !  You  here.  ( They  clasp  hands,  both  a  little  stunned ) 

Percy.  Now,  I  declare  this  is  right  jolly.  Let's  have  another 
house-party. 

Ted.   Well,  Jack,  I'm  glad  to  see  you. 

Percy.    I  nevah  was  so  glad  to  see  anyone,  deah  boy. 

Jack  {iinpatie?itly) .  Say,  Percy,  you'd  better  look  around  and 
find  someone — Tom  ! 

Percy.  Aw,  now,  I  say,  I've  looked  all  over  that  confounded 
garden.    I  don't  weally  believe  she's  there  at  all. 

Ted.    Well,  how  has  the  world  been  treating  you.  Jack  ? 

Percy.  Looks  frightfully  well,  don't  cher  know — I  say,  fellars, 
have  some  of  me  latest  cigarettes — little  birds.  This  ciga-'ette 
smoke  has  a  deuced  effect  on  the  girls.  You  as  much  of  a  lady- 
killer  as  ever,  Prescott } 

Jack.  Say,  Percy,  get  out  if  you're  going  to  smoke  that 
cigarette. 

Percy.    Do  they  weally  object  }    Deah  me,  I  won't  smoke  it ! 

Jack  {desperately).  Say,  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  Your  sister  said 
to  meet  her  at  Mrs.  Lant's  at  four.  ( Takes  out  watch)  You've 
got  only  five  minutes. 

Percy.  Aw,  I  say — Just  as  I  was  goin'  to  have  such  a  com* 
fortable  chat  with  you  boys.    Sisters  are  such  a  confounded  bore. 

Jack  {eye  on  watch).    Only  four  minutes. 

Percy.  Deah  me,  you  fellars  won't  weally  mind  if  I  go  ? 
Good-bye.  Tell  the  family  I've  spent  the  entire  afternoon  here 
but,  deuce  take  me,  if  I  could  find  them.  [EXIT,  C.  D. 

Jack.  Second  fib  in  a  good  cause.  {Goes  to  Ted  and  lays  his 
hand  on  his  shoulder)  Goodness,  Ted,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you-^ 
alive. 

Ted.    I'm  mighty  glad  to  get  back — {aside)  at  least,  I  was  

Jack.  I  hear  you're — released.  How  have  you  lived  through 
these  three  years  ? 

Ted.  Let's  not  discuss  it,  Jack,  I  found  I  had  been  duped  like 
the  rest.    I  had  to  take  my  medicine,  and  now — now  

Jack.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  Tom  doesn't  know  yet.^ 
Doesn't  the  idiot  know  the  best  friend  he's  got  in  the  world  ?  By 
thunder,  I'll  tell  him  

Ted.    See  here,  Jack,  none  of  


A  Widows*  Wiles. 


33 


ENTER  Tom,  l.    Sees  Ted  and  slops. 

Jack.  Tom  Raymond,  come  here  and  shake  hands  with  the 
best  friend  on  earth  you've  got. 

(Tom  starts  towards  him — the7i  stops.    DORIS  appears  at  C.  D. 
She  stands  transfixed,  the  others  do  ?iot  see  her.) 

Jack.  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  story.  The  day  Ted  got  to  your 
house-party — three  years  ago — I  told  him  the  whole  story  of  Mrs. 
Bronson's  affair  with  you.  We  planned  his  campaign  as  the  only 
way  to  get  you  out  of  her  clutches.  He  did  it  ior yotc — the  whole 
mean,  dirty  business — and  I  tell  you,  Tom  Raymond,  there  are 
few  men  in  these  United  States  would  have  done  it. 

Tom.    Ted!    {Starts  toward  him.) 

Jack.  Wait  a  minute.  I'm  not  through — and  then — you  know 
the  way  she  fooled  him — fooled  everyone.  Made  him  think  she 
loved  him — got  his  sense  of  honor  up  and  he  married  her — married 
her,  do  you  hear,  because  he  thought  he  ought  to.  And  he  has 
lived  in — hell  since. 

{T) 0^1'^ gives  a  little  sob  and  EXIT  hastily.) 

(Tom  goes  to  Ted  and  wrings  both  his  hands.    Jack  tt{r7ts 
quickly,  EXIT,  R.) 

Tom.    Old  \Vi2iW— {Chokes >i 

Ted.    That's  all  right — don't  say  anything. 

(Daisy's  voice  is  heard.    Tom  pitts  his  arin  around  Ted's 
shoulders.)  [EXIT  Both,  l. 

ENTER  Daisy  d:;^^  Doris,  r.) 

Daisy.    Why,  Doris  dear,  what  on  earth  

(Doris,  looks  around.    Sees  no  one,  then  her  face  lights  and  she 
throws  her  arms  arowtd  Daisy.    She  still  has  the  rose.) 

Doris.  To  think — to  think.  {Buries  her  head  07i  Daisy's 
shoulders) 

Daisy.  What  on  earth  is  the  matter — you  were  crying  so  hard 
a  minute  ago — and — now  your  eyes  are  so  bright. 

Doris  {stands  gazing  off,  absolutely  forgetting  Daisy).  Oh, 
what  I  said  

Daisy.    Doris,  I  insist  on  knowing — you  must  be  ill. 

Doris  (^/^r/^).  Ted's  coming.  Oh,  Daisy,  please  go.  (Rush* 
ing  over  to  L.)   Quickiye  quickly. 

3 


34 


A  Widow's  Wiles. 


Daisy  {with  a  sjnile  of  comprehensimt).  You  don't  mean  it? 
Oh,  Doris,  I'm  so  glad.    {Kisses  her  rapturously)  [EXIT,  L. 

ENTER  Ted,  r. 

Ted.    Oh,  pardon  me. 

Doris.    Mr.  Prescott,  Ted— I— I— overheard  what  Jack  said— 
— I — Oh,  what  can  I  say  ? 
Ted.    Doris,  you  mean  } 

Doris.  I — I  mean  I  understand — that — I — 've  cared  all  the 
time — only — Oh,  can't  you  help  me  } 

{She  drops  the  rose  to  the  floor  as  Ted  cojiies  toward  her.  He 
takes  her  passionately  in  his  arms.) 

Ted.  Doris,  you  love  me  .'^ 
Doris.    Yes — my  hero  

ENTER  Tom  ^7;/^/ Daisy,  l. 

Tom.  Ah !  At  last  you  have  your  reward.  Yes — a  hero 
indeed  !    The  soul  of  honor — a  friend  to  the  death. 

Ted.  Dear  Tom, — after  it  all,  I  am  happ}^  Yes,  happy  in  my 
love — happy  in  regaining  a  broken  friendship — happy  in  having 
been  instrumental  in  saving  a  friend  from — from  himself. 

Tom  {quickly).    And  a  Widow's  Wiles. 

Tableau. 

Tom  and  Ted  at  C,  right  hands  clasped. 
Doris  and  Daisy  in  close  embrace  at  Rj  Co 


QUICK  CURTAIN. 


COMEDIES  AND  DRAMAS 


BISCUITS  AND  BILLS 

A  comedy  in  1  act,  by  O.  B.  DuBois.  3  male,  1  female  character.  Modern 
costumes.  1  easy  interior  scene.  Time,  about  1?  hours.  From  start  to 
finish  there  is  not  a  dull  moment  in  this  little  comedy;  it  is  brimful  of  fun, 
of  rapid  action,  and  of  sparkling-  dialog-ue,  and  when  played  with  the 
*'  dash  "  it  requires,  is  sure  to  be  a  success. 

PRICE  25  CENTS 


SIMPKINS^  LITTLE  BREAKFAST  PARTY 

A  farce  in  1  act,  by  Charles  S.  Bird.  4  male,  3  female  characters.  Cos- 
tumes modern.  1  plain  interior  scene.  Time,  Ih  hours.  Simpkins,  having" 
inherited  a  fortune,  is  spending*  a  winter  in  New  York,  leaving  his  fiancee 
in  his  small  home  city.  He  becomes  enamoured  of  an  actress  and  invitea 
her  to  a  little  breakfast  at  his  apartments.  She  accepts  with  the  under- 
standing that  she  be  accompanied  by  her  father,  a  widower,  who  proves  to 
be  an  old  flame  of  the  widowed  mother  of  Simpkins' fiancee.  For  reasons 
*7hich  soon  become  obvious,  the  major  sends  her  a  hint  of  Simpkins'  gay 
life,  and  suggests  her  presence  in  the  city  to  investigate.  She  decides  ac- 
cordingly, and  the  inopportune  arrival  of  herself  and  daughter  causes  com- 
plications of  the  most  ludicrous  and  comical  variety. 

PRICE  25  CENTS 


LODGERS  TAKEN  IK 

A  comedy  in  3  acts,  by  Levin  C.  Tees.  6  male,  4  female  characters,  also  % 
supernumeraries.  1  interior  scene.  Time,  about  2^  hours.  Costumes  of 
to-day.  A  husband  with  a  strong  case  of  the  '*  green-eyed  monster  "  taking 
a  trip  abroad  with  his  wife,  places  his  home  in  charge  of  his  ne'er-do-well 
nephew.  By  connivance  the  valet  of  the  house  and  the  nephew  rent  the 
rooms  to  a  very  mixed  class  of  tenants,  whose  diversified  characters  present 
great  opportunity  for  comedy  acting.  The  dialogue  is  very  bright,  the  ac- 
tion continuous  and  the  situations  most  laughable.  This  is  adapted  from 
the  same  work  upon  which  William  Gillette's  famous  "  All  the  Comforts  of 
Home"  is  based,  with  all  the  comedy  parts  retained,  but  the  remainder 
brought  down  for  a  smaller  cast  and  shorter  time. 

PRICE  25  CENTS 


THE  NEW  PASTOR 

Vaudeville  sketch  In  1  act,  by  Willis  N.  Bugbee.  2  male,  2  female  char- 
acters. 1  easy  interior  scene.  Time,  if  played  straight,  about  30  minutes; 
specialties  to  suit  may  be  introduced.  The  New  Pastor  and  Miss  Colton 
meet  accidently  at  Deacon  Brown's  house  and,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the 
deacon,  he  learns  that  at  one  time  they  were  good  friends  on  tlie  vaudeville 
stage.  What  the  result  is,  is  told  in  the  climax.   Good  parts  throughout. 

PRICE  15  CENTS 


STANDING  ROOM  ONLY 

A  comedy  in  1  act,  by  Dwight  S.  Anderson.  3  male,  1  female  character. 
1  very  simple  interior  scene.  Time,  about  35  minutes.  An  exceedin^rly 
clever  and  vivacious  sketch  with  plenty  of  humor.  The  cast  contains  a 
crabbed  father;  his  son,  a  collegian;  a  butler^  and  a  very  superior  juvenile 
female  lead.  All  character  parts  and  all  good. 

PRICE  15  CENTS 


A  STORMY  NIGHT 

A  comedy  in  1  act,  by  Katharine  Kavanaugh.  3  male,  1  female  cliaracter. 
1  interior  scene.  Time,  about  40  minutes.  All  the  parts  are  good,  especially 
that  of  Mrs.  Robinson.  The  dialogue  is  crisp,  up-to-date,  and  somewhat  ou 
the  order  of  a  cross-fire  sketch.  Asa  bright  and  witty  little  comedy,  highlj^ 
recommended. 

PRICE  15  CENTS 


COMEDIES  AND  DRAMAS 


NEVER  AGAIN 

A  farce  in  3  acts,  by  Anthony  E.  Wills.  7  male,  5  female  characters.  I 
Interior  scene  throughout.  Plays  a  full  evening-.  Ruf  us  Fletcher,  a  crabbed 
husband  and  father,  refuses  a  satif actory  reference  to  Dora,  a  maid  he  has 
discharg'ed.  In  Marie,  the  new  maid,  Rufus  discovers  an  attractive  dancer 
to  whom  he  had  been  very  attentive  at  a  recent  ball.  Marie  confides  this 
episode  to  Dora,  and  the  schemes  devised  and  the  pranks  played  by  them 
upon  Rufus  to  punish  him  for  refusing  th«  reference,  lead  to  many  most 
amusing:  complications  and  to  an  entirely  unexpected  climax. 

 PRICE  25  CENTS  

THE  FHOZEN  TRAIL 

A  drama  in  4  acts,  by  Georg-^  M.  Rosener.  8  male,  3  female  characters  (by 
doubling-,  G  males,  3  females).  2  interior  scenes.  Time,  2h  hours.  This 
drama  is  replete  with  human  interest  from  start  to  final  curtain.  Alaska, 
<he  last  of  the  Beothics,  a  once  powerful  Indian  tribe  under  whose  spell  both 
Jack  and  Cedric  fall,  is  a  combination  of  true  womanliood,  love  and  con- 
stancy. Cross  Fox,  her  father,  is  a  typical  Indian  who  plays  a  strong-  part, 
Helen,  the  ing-enue,  and  her  father,  an  old  but  ardent  wooer,  furnish  excel- 
lent comedy  roles, 

PRICE  25  CENTS 

™~  JACK  DENTON'S  DEVOTION 

A  naval  drama  in  3  acts,  by  Gordon  V.  May.  8  male.  5  female  characters, 
1  Interior,  1  exterior  scene.  Time,  2'i  hours.  Philip  Ashley,  with  the  con- 
nivance of  the  United  States  Consul,  forms  a  plot  to  dethrone  the  Prince  of 
Alesia,  an  Alg-erian  principality,  to  carry  off,  and  espouse  the  Prince's 
daug-liter  and  proclaim  himself  the  Prince.  He  is  frustrated  in  his  final 
attempt  to  abduct  the  Princess  by  two  naval  officers.  The  insurgents 
attack  the  Consulate,  but  are  repulsed  and  defeated  by  the  guns  of  the 
U.  S.  Cruiser  *'  Victory.'*  The  incidental  situations  and  final  climax  are 
Very  effective. 

 PRICE  25  CENTS  

AFTER  THE  HONEYMOON 

A  farce  in  1  act,  by  Wallace  Nisbet.  2 male,  3  female  characters.  1  plain 
Interior  scene.  Time,  about  50  minutes.  An  entertaining-  little  sketch, 
easy  to  stag-e  and  easy  to  play.  A  bundle  of  letters  in  the  wrong  hands 
causes  all  the  amusement  and  all  the  trouble. 

PRICE  25  CENTS 

'  "        A  BACHELOR'S  ELOPEMENT  ' 

A  comedy  in  3  acts,  by  William  and  Josephine  Giles.  4  male,  2  female 
characters.  1  interior,  1  exterior  scene,  both  easy.  Time,  2  hours.  Modern 
costumes.  A  case  of  mistaken  identity  is  the  theme  of  this  play.  The 
squire  has  a  spinster  sister,  Nancy  Evans  by  name,  also  a  daug-hter  by 
the  same  name,  commonly  called  Nan.  Nan  is  sought  in  marriag-e  by  Billy 
Nash,  but  the  squire  has  determined  she  shall  marry  a  wealthy  old  bachelor, 
Tom  Green.  To  further  his  plans,  the  squire  induces  Green  to  "  make  up  '* 
as  Billy,  and  how  the  plan  succeeds  is  told  in  the  play  in  the  most  amusing 
and  humorous  manner. 

 PRICE  25  CENTS  

A  FOOTBALL  ROMANCE 

A  college  comedy  in  4  acts,  by  Anthony  E.  Wills.  9  male,  4  female  char- 
acters. 1  interior,  2  exterior  scenes.  Time,  about  2^  hours.  Costumes 
modern.  A  capital  piece  for  amateurs,  abounding  in  the  stirring,  breezy 
atmosphere  of  college  life  and  the  spirit  of  the  great  game  of  football.  A 
plot  with  lack  of  love  making,  replete  with  incidents,  and  a  surprising 
climax  enables  us  to  recommend  very  highly  this  play  for  colleges. 
PRICE  25  CENTS 


MILITARY  PLAYS 

25  CENTS  EACH 

M.  F. 

BY  THE  ENEMY'S  HAND.    4  Acts;  2  hours                      10  4 

EDWARDS,  THE  SPY.    5  Acts;  2}^  hours                           10  4 

PRISONER  OF  ANDERSONVILLE.    4  Acts;  2>4  hours..  10  4 

CAPTAIN  DICK.    3  Acts;  Ij^  hours                                       9  6 

ISABEL,  THE  PEARE  OP  CUBA.    4  Acts;  2  hours          9  3 

EITTEE  SAVAGE.    3  Acts;  2  hours;  1  Stage  Setthig                4  4 

BY  FORCE  OF  IMPUESE.  (15  cents.)  5  Acts;  2}^  hours   9  3 

BETWEEN  TWO  FIRES.    (15  cents.)   3  Acts;  2  hours  8  3 

RURAL  PLAYS 

25  CENTS  EACH 

MAN  FROM  MAINE.    5  Acts;  2M  hours                             9  3 

AMONG  THE  BERKSHIRES.    3  Acts;  2^4  hours                8  4 

OAK  FARM.    3  Acts;  21^  hours;  1  Stage  Setting                        7  4 

GREAT  WINTERSON  MINE.    3  Acts;  2  hours                   6  4 

SQUIRE  THOMPKINS' DAUGHTER.    5  Acts;  2]^  hours  5  2 

WHEN  A  MAN'S  SINGLE.    3  Acts;  2  hours                        4  4 

FROM  PUNKIN  RIDGE.    (15  cents.)    1  Act;  Ihour...    6  3 

EETTER  FROM  HOME.   (15  cents.)   1  Act;  25  minutes  1  1 

ENTERTAINMENTS 

25  CENTS  EACH 

AUNT  DINAH'S  QUIETING  PARTY.    1  Scene                5  11 

BACHELOR  MAIDS'  REUNION.    1  Scene                        2  30 

IN  THE  FERRY  HOUSE.    1  Scene;  li^  hours                     19  15 

'  JAPANESE  AVEODING.    1  Scene;  1  hour                            3  10 

MATRIMONIAL  EXCHANGE.   2  Acts;  2  hours                  6  9 

OLD  PLANTATION  NIGHT.    1  Scene;  1^  hours                4  4 

YE  VILLAGE    SKEWL  OF   LONG  AGO.     1  Scene.  13  12 

FAMILIAR  FACES  OF  A  FUNNY  FAMILY                 8  11 

JOLLY  BACHELORS.    Motion  Song  or  Recitation   11 

CHRISTMAS  MEDLEY.    30  minutes                                  15  14 

EASTER  TIDINGS.    20  minutes   8 

BUNCH  OF  ROSES.    (15  cents.)    1  Act;  li^  hours             1  13 

OVER  THE  GARDEN  WALL.    (15  cents)                  11  8 


FITZGERALD  PUBLISHING  CORPORATION 

SUCCESSOR  TO 
DICK  8b  FITZGERALD,  18  Vesey  Street,  N.  Y. 


COMEDIES  AND  DRAMAS 

25  CENTS  EACH 

BREAKING  HIS  BONDS.    4  Acts;  2hours   «  "3 

BUTTEllNUT'S  B111I>1£.    3  Acts;       hours  ,..   li  6 

COLLEGE  CHUMS.    3  Acts;  2  hours;  1  Stag«  Setting  :  9  3 

COUNT  OF  NO  ACCOUNT.    3  Acts;       hours   9  4 

DEACON.    5  Acts;  2)^  hours...   g  6 

DELEGATES  FROM  DEN'VER.   2  Acts;  45  minutes   3  10 

DOCTOR  B^  COURTESY.    3  Acts;  2  hours   g  5 

EASTSIDEKS,  The.    3  Acts;  2  hours;  1  Stage  Setting   8  4 

ESCAPED  FROM  THE  LAW.    5  Acts;  2  hours   7  4 

GIRL  FROM  PORTO  RICO.    3  Acts;  2^  hours.   6  8 

GYPSY  QUEEN.    4  Acts;  23^  hours   5  S 

IN  THE  ABSENCE  OF  SUSAN.    3  Acts;  li^  hours   4  6 

JAIL  BIRD,    5  Acts;  2)4  hours   6  8 

JOSIAH'S  COURTSHIP.    4  Acts;  2  hours   7  4 

MY  LADY  DARRELL.    4  Acts;  2]^  hours   9  6 

MY  UNCLE  FROM  INDIA.    4  Acts;  2i^  hours   13  4 

NEXT  DOOR.    3  Acts;  2  hours   5  4 

PHYLLIS'S  INHERITANCE.    3  Acts;  2  hours   6  9 

REGULAR  FLIRT.    3  Acts;  2  hours   4  4 

ROGUE'S  LUCK.    3Acts;2hours   5  3 

SQUIRE'S  STRATAGEM.    5  Acts;  2)^  hours   6  4 

STEEL  KING.    4  Acts;  2}^  hours.   5  3 

WHAT'S  NEXT?   3  Acts;  2i^  hours   7  4 

WHITE  LIE.    4  Acts;  2^^  hours   4  3 

WESTERN  PLAYS 

25  CENTS  EACH 

ROCKY  FORD.    4  Acts;  2  hours   8  3 

GOLDEN  GULCH.    3  Acts;  2^  hours   11  3 

RED  ROSETTE.    3  Acts;  2  hours   6  3 

MISS  MOSHER  OF  COLORADO.    4  Acts;  2^  hours  .  ..  5  3 

STUBBORN  MOTOR  CAR.  3  Acts;  2  hours;  1  Stage  Setting  7  4 

CRAWFORD'S  CLAIM.    (15  cents.)    3  Acts;  214  hours.  9  3 

FITZGERALD  PUBLISHING  CORPORATION 

SUCCESSOR  TO 
DICK  &  FITZGERALD,  18  Vesey  Street,  N.  Y. 


